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CCPXRIGHT DEPOSOi 



THE POEMS AND AMYNTAS OF 
THOMAS RANDOLPH 



THE 

POEMS AND AMYNTAS 

OF 

THOMAS RANDOLPH 



EDITED BY 

JOHN JAY PARRY, Ph.D. 




NEW haven: YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS 

LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD 

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 

MDCCCCXVII 






VI 



Copyright, 191 7 
By Yale University Press 



First published, February. 191 7 



v^ 



MAR -2 1917 

©CI,A455819 



PREFACE 

IT seems now as though the prediction of the seven- 
teenth century editors of the Clievelandi Vindicice 
that Randolph would "lie embalmed in his own native 
wax" had indeed come true. In general when the 
public has seen fit to consign a writer to oblivion it is 
wisest not to dispute its sentence. Yet in the present 
instance I feel that the judgment of his contemporaries, 
rather than that of the present day, is the correct 
one, and that Randolph is deserving of a much larger 
audience than he now has. 

Wholly aside from the fact that poetry, particularly 
old-fashioned poetry, no longer appeals to the general 
reader, there are several reasons for the neglect into 
which the works of Randolph have fallen. One is that 
after his death an admiring brother published what- 
ever of his he could find, burying the honey in the wax 
and making no distinction between his early school 
exercises and his later poems. Because of this the 
juvenile efforts of the school-boy are often condemned 
as though they were the work of his mature age. 
Another fact which has kept him from being better 
known is that copies of his works are now hard to 
secure; one must read him either in the rare early edi- 
tions, or in the astoundingly inaccurate reprint of W. 
C. Hazlitt which is itself long out of print. It is to do 
away with the difficulty of securing a text that this 
volume, containing about one third of Randolph's 
extant works, has been prepared. 

With the example of Hazlitt before me I have possi- 



VI PREFACE 

bly, in trying to avoid his errors, gone too far in the 
opposite direction. When one begins to correct and 
amend it is difficult to know where to stop, and the 
final result is apt to be that the editor quite eclipses 
the author. For this reason I have not ventured to 
make any changes of my own in the original texts. 
This is not really such an obstacle as it might at first 
appear, since most of those who use this book will 
undoubtedly be persons familiar with seventeenth cen- 
tury literature and able to read the early texts with- 
out difficulty. For such persons the old spelling and 
punctuation, irregular as they are, have a certain 
charm; furthermore these persons may be sure that 
they are not, as so often happens, being led astray by 
some error in judgment on the part of the editor when, 
if left to themselves, they could find a way out of the 
difficulty. 

In editing a volume of this kind one receives assist- 
ance from so many sources that it is manifestly impos- 
sible to acknowledge them all. In particular however 
I wish to express my thanks to Professor William Lyon 
Phelps of Yale who first suggested the subject to me 
and who has aided me throughout the work; to Pro- 
fessor Brooke and Professor Berdan, also of Yale, for 
valuable assistance; to the staff of the Yale Library 
for innumerable kindnesses; and to the librarians of 
the British Museum, the Bodleian, and the Victoria 
and Albert Museum for the generosity with which 
they extended to me every facility for consulting the 

manuscripts and early editions. 

J. J. P. 
Rome, N.Y. 
January, 1917. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Introduction 

PAGE 

I. The Randolph Family i 

II. The Life of Thomas Randolph 6 

III. The Character of his Writings 21 

IV. Other Members of the Randolph Family .... 26 
V. The Amyntas: 

{a) History 30 

(b) Sources 31 

(r) The Fickle Shepherdess 34 

VI. The Text 36 

VII. Bibliography 39 

Verses prefixed to the 1638 Volume 

By Ro. Randolph. M.A. Student of C. Church 47 

Ro. Randolph, ex JEde Christi 49 

I.T. A. M SO 

Tho. Terrent. M.A. ex iEde Christi 51 

Anonymous 51 

R. Bride-oake. A.M. No. Coll 54 

Ed. Gayton. M.A. loan 54 

G. W. Joan 5S 

los. Howe. Trin. Coll. Oxon 55 

Owen Feltham, Gent 56 

R. Gostelow. Mr. A. Oxon 59 

Ric. West. Bac. of Arts, and Student of Chr. Church. . . 60 

Poems in the 1638 Volume 

On the inestimable content he inioyes in the muses .... 67 

In Anguem, qui Lycorin dormientem amplexus est 73 

A Complaint against Cupid that he never made him in Love. 78 
A gratulatory to M"^ Ben Johnson for his adopting of him to 

be his Son 84 

In Lesbiam, & Histrionem 86 

De Histrice. Ex Claudiano : 88 

vii 



viu TABLE OF CONTENTS 

In Archimedis Sphaeram ex Claudiano 90 

De Magnete. Ex Claudiano 91 

De Sene Veronensi. Ex Claudiano 94 

The second Epod: of Horace translated 95 

An Elegie upon the Lady Venetia Digby 97 

An Epitaph upon M'* I. T 99 

An Epithalamium ICX3 

An Epitaph upon his honour'd friend M' Warre 102 

Vpon the losse of his little finger 103 

On the Passion of Christ 104 

Necessary Observations 104 

A Platonick Elegie 113 

An Apologie for his false Prediction that his Aunt Lane would 

be deliver'd of a Sonne iij 

An Epithalamium to M*^ F. H 119 

To M'^ Feltham on his booke of Resolves 123 

In Natalem Augustissimi Principis Caroli 128 

Vpon his Picture 128 

An Ode to M' Anthony Stafford to hasten him into the 

country 129 

An answer to M' Ben lohnson's Ode, to perswade him not to 

leave the stage 132 

A Dialogue. Thirsis. Lalage 134 

A Dialogue betwixt a Nymph and a Shepheard 136 

A Pastorall Ode 137 

A Song 138 

The Song of Discord 138 

To one Overhearing his private discourse 139 

Epigram: 47 ex decimo Libro Martialis 139 

To the Vertuous and noble Lady, the Lady Cotton 140 

An Elegie on the death of that Renowned and Noble Knight 

Sir Rowland Cotton of Bellaport in Shropshire 140 

Ausonii Epigram 38 144 

On the Death of a Nightingale 145 

Vpon the report of the King of Swedens Death 145 

On S'' Robert Cotton the Antiquary 147 

An Elegie 147 

'H 'Wv<f>vo\Js i] irolr)(Tis ^ /xaviKov: Arist 149 

Ad Amicum Litigantem 149 

In Corydonem & Corinnam 150 

To one admiring her selfe in a Looking-Glasse 151 

An Eglogue occasion'd by two Doctors disputing upon predes- 
tination 152 

An Eglogue to M"^ lohnson 156 



TABLE OF CONTENTS IX 

A Pastorall Courtship 163 

Vpon a very deformed Gentlewoman, but of a voice incompar- 
ably sweet 170 

The milk-maids Epithalamium 172 

An Eglogue on the noble Assemblies revived on Cotswold Hills 

by M. Robert Dover i74 

The Song of Orpheus 181 

A Maske for Lydia 182 

A parley with his empty Purse 183 

Vpon Love fondly refus'd for Conscience sake 185 



Poems not in the 1638 Edition but included in 
THE 1640 and Subsequent Editions 

On Importunate Dunnes 191 

A Character. Aulico-Politico-Academico 194 

On the losse of his Finger 196 

A paraneticon to the truly noble Gentleman M. Endymion 

Porter 197 

To a painted Mistresse 198 

To his well Timbred Mistresse 199 

On six Maids bathing themselves in a River 200 

The Wedding Morne 202 

In praise of Woemen in Generall 203 

To M. I. S. on his Gratefull Servant 205 



Poems (more or less doubtfull) not in any of the 
Collected Editions but added from Various 
Sources 

The Towns-mens Petition of Cambridge 209 

On the Fall of the Mitre Tavern in Cambridge 213 

Annagram. Vertue alone thy Blisse 216 

An Epithalamium 217 

On a maide of honour seen by a scoUar in sommerset garden . . 218 

Epigram 219 

[To Richard Weston^ 219 

A letter to his Mistresse 219 

The Character of a Perfect Woman 220 

Ad Amicam 224 

[On the Book Fish] 224 

On M' parson Organist of Westminster Abbye 224 

[On William Laurence] 225 



X TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Randolph his answer to some merry companion 225 

[[Randolph's answer to the "Sons of Ben"] 225 

Praeludium 226 

[The City of London] 231 

Amyntas 233 

Notes: 

To the Poems 355 

Amyntas 371 



Appendix 375 

Index of First Lines 377 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Portrait of Thomas Randolph .... frontispiece ^ 

The Birthplace of Thonjas Randolph facing page 5 '^ 

Genealogical Chart of the Randolph 

Family page 25 

Facsimile Title-page of the 1638 

Edition (Poems with the Muses / 

Looking Glasse and Amyntas) . . . page 65 

Facsimile Title-page of the 1638 

Edition (Amyntas or the Im- / 

possible Dowry) page 233 



THOMAS RANDOLPH 

INTRODUCTION 

I. The Randolph Family 

No one could be less vain of his ancestry than was 
the poet Thomas Randolph, yet he was descended from 
one of the oldest families in the kingdom, was entitled 
to display coat-armor which had been recognized for 
more than three hundred years, and was admitted 
by his contemporaries to be a "gentleman," a term 
which meant much more in those days than it does 
at present. 

There are Randolfs mentioned in England as early 
as the Domesday Book, but aside from the similarity 
of the name there is nothing to connect them with 
the poet. The first of the name who can, with any 
degree of probability, be assumed to be of his family 
are to be found in Wiltshire and Hampshire about the 
beginning of the fourteenth century. In the time of 
Edward I we find mentioned among the knights of 
Hampshire one "Johannes Randolph," whose arms, 
as given by Tristram Risdon, were, "Gules, on a cross 
argent, five mullets sable," and in a Parliamentary roll 
of arms,^ undated but evidently of the early part of 
the fourteenth century, we find a "Sire John Randolf " 

* Genealogist, New Series, ii, 175. 
I 



2 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

of Wiltshire and Hampshire whose arms were, "De 
goules a vne Crois de argent e V moles de sable en la 
crois." These are the same arms that in later times 
were used by a nephew of the poet, Col. William Ran- 
dolph, the founder of the Virginia branch of the family. 

This Sir John Randolph must have been a man of 
considerable importance in his day, for among the 
papers preserved in the British Record Office are a 
number which refer to him. In the year 1297 he and 
Joan his wife (she was a daughter of John de Acton) 
exchanged Chaddenwick in Wiltshire for the manor of 
Ashe in the hundred of Overton, Hampshire. Later 
they acquired other lands in Hampshire and elsewhere. 
Sir John was made Keeper of the New Forest and held 
for the king the manor and castle of Christ Church de 
Twynham, and later the royal castle of Portchester. 
He also served for many years as Justice in Eyre for 
Common Pleas, his circuits covering, at various times, 
much of the southern and western part of England. 
He died some time between 1334 and 1337. 

We find mention of but one son, Robert, but it seems 
very probable that the William Randolf who is men- 
tioned by Fuller as Sheriff of Wiltshire in 1333 and 
Knight of the Shire, was, if not a son, at least some near 
relative of Sir John. He served as collector of the king's 
revenues for Wiltshire, was Keeper of the royal forest 
and park of Claryndon, and in 1356 was given a com- 
mission of Oyer and Terminer for Wiltshire. He held 
lands in both Wiltshire and Hampshire, among them 
being the manor of Bereford St. Martin. He died some 
time before 1369. 

Another person who almost certainly belonged to 
this particular family is the Thomas Randolph of Bere- 



INTRODUCTION 3 

ford who, in consideration of having gone on the king's 
service over seas, was in 1340 given a pardon for killing 
William Nicol of Bockebrok. We find other Randolfs 
and Randolphs at this time, but there is nothing more 
than the name to connect them with this particular 
family. "^ 

When next we hear of the family it has split into two 
(or more) branches, of which one, the Randolphs of 
Wilts, bore the ancient arms of Sir John, while the 
Randolphs of Kent bore the same, except that in their 
coat the mullets were pierced.^ This division of the 
family had evidently taken place before the year 1433, 
for under that date Fuller mentions a William Randolf 
of Tunbridge among the gentry of Kent. It is to this 
branch of the family that Thomas Randolph, the 
ambassador of Queen Elizabeth, belonged.^ The arms 
of the Wiltshire branch of the family were "confirm'd 
by Robert Cooke, Clarencieux, the 15th of March in 
the 13th of Queen Eliz. to Tho. Randolph of Badelismer 
in the County of Cambridge,^ Esq.; descended from 
the ancient Family of Sir John Randolph, of the County 
of Wilts, Knight." ° From time to time we find mem- 

^The significance of the fact that the names John, Robert, WiUiam, 
and Thomas, borne by members of the family at this time, all reap- 
pear in the poet's immediate family should not be overlooked. 

^ Guillim, Heraldry, 105; Edmondson, Heraldry. 

^ The claim has sometimes been made (see The General Armory 
of Sir John Bernard Burke) that the Randolphs of Kent are descended 
from the prominent Scottish family of that name: this seems amply 
disproved by the fact that we find Randolphs in England as early as 
we do in Scotland, and that the arms of the Kent family resemble 
very closely those of these English Randolphs and are not at all like 
those of the Scottish house. 

* It is possible that this is an error for Badlesmere in Kent. 

' Guillim, Heraldry, 105. 



4 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

bers of the family in various other parts of England, 
but in the present connection these have no significance 
for us. 

Although we may assume the poet's kinship with 
these earlier Randolphs because it was claimed by one 
of his brothers and apparently never questioned, we 
are unable definitely to trace his ancestry any further 
back than his grandfather Robert, whom we find resid- 
ing at Hams (now Hamsey), near Lewis, in county Sus- 
sex. He is not mentioned in any of the pedigrees of 
the Kent Randolphs and it seems quite certain that 
he was of the other branch of the family. This Rob- 
ert Randolph who was "a surveyor of land or land 
measurer," ^ married Rose, the daughter and co-heiress 
of Thomas Roberts, who was the son of Thomas Rob- 
erts of Elford in Hawkhurst, county Kent.^ Like her 
husband she was of gentle birth; Berry gives the 
Roberts arms as " Per pale gules and azure, three pheons 
or," and these arms are recognized and credited to 
Roberts of Canterbury in the Visitation of Kent made 
in 1663. 

The only child of this union of whom we find any men- 
tion was a son, William, born in 1572. He was very 
wild in his youth and because of this his father cut him 
oflF in his will with only a groat or three pence. When 
the high-spirited young man received this legacy he 
nailed it to the post of his father's door and set out to 
shift for himself.' He became steward to Sir George 

^ This seems to be Aubrey's meaning, although it is not quite 
clear to whom the statement refers. 

2 Wm. Berry, Kent, 181; H. F. Waters, Gleanings, 925. 

* This story rests solely on the authority of Aubrey and must be 
accepted with a certain amount of caution. 



INTRODUCTION 5 

Goring in Sussex, and later to Edward Lord Zouche/ 
settling at Houghton Parva or Little Houghton in 
the county of Northampton. His financial resources 
must have been very limited, for two of his sons were 
later admitted to Westminster School as Queens 
Scholars, and no one was eligible for these scholarships 
whose father had an income of ten pounds or more 
per year. 

William Randolph married Elizabeth, the daughter 
of Thomas Smith of Newnham near Daventry in the 
county of Northampton. Baker ^ gives a picture of 
the Smith house "which stands on a bank at the end 
of the lane leading to Dodford," and to judge from 
this picture the Smiths must have been people of con- 
siderable importance, although apparently not gentle- 
folk. This wife, who bore him three sons and one 
daughter, seems to have died some time after 1613, 
for a few years later we find him married again, this 
time to Dorothy, the daughter of Richard Lane of 
Curteenhall, Gent, and the sister of the Sir Richard 
Lane, who became Lord Keeper of the Great Seal under 
Charles L She was the widow of Thomas West of 
Cotton End near Northampton, and the mother of the 
Richard West, S.T.D., who wrote the poem, "To the 
pious Memory of my dear Brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas 
Randolph," prefixed to the collected editions of Ran- 
dolph's Poems. By his second marriage William Ran- 
dolph became the father of seven more children, four 
sons and three daughters. He died in 1660. 

^ There is in the Record Office a warrant (dated Sept. 13, 1619) 
from Lord Zouche to Master " Randoll," authorizing him to hold court 
in his manor of Chowton, county Somerset, and to receive the rents 
there. 

2 Northamptonshire, i, 261. 



6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

II. The Life of Thomas Randolph 

Thomas, the oldest child ^ of William Randolph and 
his first wife Elizabeth was born at Newnham^ in the 
house of his maternal grandfather on the fifteenth 
of June, 1605.^ Early in life he began to exhibit a 
leaning toward poetry, and at the age of nine he wrote 
the History of our Saviour s Incarnation in English verse; 
this was never printed and no copy of it is known to 
be extant, but the original, in the young poet's own 
handwriting, was long preserved as a rarity by his 
brother John. We have the word of his "brother-in- 
law" Richard West that some of the verses included in 
the collected editions of the poems were written at a 
not very much more mature age, and that even in 
extreme youth "books were his toys." ^ 

^ The modern accounts all follow Baker, who says he was the second 
son; both Aubrey and the 1682 Visitation of Northamptonshire, 
however, say that he was the oldest child. Aubrey was often far 
from accurate, but in this case he got his facts from Randolph's 
brother John and had no reason for falsifying them; he sent the 
letter containing them to Wood for his Athenae. The Visitation was 
made during the lifetime of the poet's brother William, and probably, 
in accordance with the usual custom, was from facts furnished by some 
member of the family. 

^ Winstanley, followed by Langbaine, Motley and others, says 
that he was born at Houghton, which is probably a mere assumption 
based upon the fact that this was his father's home; Aubrey, Wood, 
Baker, and the 1682 Visitation give Newnham. 

' Baker gives this as the date of his baptism, and this has been 
generally accepted; Kottas says that the baptism is recorded in the 
parish register of Newnham under that date. I believe this to be 
merely a graphic paraphrase of Baker's statement and do not think 
that he took the trouble to investigate for himself. I have been 
unable to learn whether or not the register for that date is still pre- 
served. Aubrey, Wood, and the Visitation of 1682 all give June 15th 
as the date of his birth. 

* See his verses prefixed to the editions of the Poems. 



INTRODUCTION 7 

In order to give to this promising youth all the ad- 
vantages possible, his father sent him to the College of 
St. Peter, or, as it is more generally known, Westminster 
School, where he secured one of the scholarships estab- 
lished by Queen Elizabeth when she reorganized the 
school. We do not know exactly when he entered, but 
it was very likely somewhere about 1618, as the usual 
period at the school was four or five years and Randolph 
left it in 1623.^ 

At the time when Randolph entered the school the 
headmaster was John Wilson,- a man remarkable for 
"a faculty more than ordinary in instructing youth.'* 
The second master, to whom fell the task of instructing 
the third and fourth forms, and who must therefore 
have had charge of young Randolph during at least 
part of his career at the school, was Thomas Hardinge. 
Some of the students who were at the school at this 
time, and with whom Randolph must have been well 
acquainted, were William Hemmings, the son of the 
Shakespearian actor, James Duport, who later became 
eminent as a Greek Scholar, and John Donne (son of 
the Dean of St. Paul's), Samuel Rutter, and William 
Cartwright, the poets. ^ 

' One who is at all familiar with Kottas' method will hesitate to 
accept even so positive a statement of his as the one that Randolph 
entered the school in his twelfth year, when such statement is not 
backed up by mention of his authorities. It is probably a good guess, 
nothing more; Kottas always gives his conjectures as if they were 
proven facts. 

^ Kottas' statement that Camden was headmaster of Westmin- 
ster School until his death in 1623 hardly requires an elaborate 
refutation. 

^ The Alumni Westmonasierienses gives the names of all the 
Queens Scholars, with the dates when they were elected to the 
universities; those who desire further information about Randolph's 
companions at the school are referred to this work. 



8 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

In 1622 Wilson resigned his headmastership and was 
succeeded in the position by Lambert Osbolston, who 
"bore the character of a learned man, and was an ex- 
cellent master, and very fortunate in breeding up many 
wits." Although Randolph left the school only a 
year later, and so cannot have been for very long under 
Osbolston's care, he has left us a sincere although rather 
effusive tribute to the debt he owed his old master.^ 
Doubtless the character of the men under whom he 
studied and of the course of study which he pursued in 
this school did have considerable influence in molding 
his nature. 

At Westminster the chief emphasis was at this time 
placed upon acquiring a thorough acquaintance with 
the Greek and Latin authors, and upon an ability to 
write both prose and verse in these two languages. 
Geography also was taught to the boys, and apparently 
Hebrew as well.^ Furthermore, they were required at 
frequent intervals to try their skill in the composition 
of English verses, and we learn from one of his school- 
fellows that Randolph performed these tasks very 
well, and that he wrote with remarkable facility.* 
On Sunday the boys were given the task of putting 
into English verse the sermon of the morning or else 
the gospel and epistle of the day, and it is doubtless 
to this custom that we owe the Necessary Observa- 

^ See the Latin poem prefixed to the Jealous Lovers. 

^ Hebrew was prescribed by the statutes drawn up in the time of 
EHzabeth for the use of the school (F. H. Forshall, Westminster School, 
412) and in 1661 Evelyn mentions both Hebrew and Arabic among 
the languages in which the boys leaving for the university were able 
to compose (ibid. 418). Forshall gives a rather full account of the 
school life and studies at about this period. 

^ James Duport, Musce Subsecivce, 269-70. 



INTRODUCTION 9 

tions, which are certainly among Randolph's youth- 
ful work; the translations from the Latin poets were 
also, in all probability, school exercises of this 
period. 

Not only did Queen Elizabeth establish scholarships 
at the school itself, but she also caused a number 
of those at Trinity College, Cambridge, and Christ 
Church, Oxford, to be set aside each year exclusively 
for Westminster boys. These scholarships were 
awarded on the basis of a competitive examination 
held each year in Rogation Week. Among those who 
took this examination in the year 1623 was young Ran- 
dolph, who secured the highest rating of any of the 
candidates. He was accordingly elected to Trinity 
College, and was given the title of "Captain of the 
Election." (The Captain is not now necessarily the 
candidate with the highest stand.) The name Tho. 
Randolph may still be read on the tablets in the school 
dormitory which record the names of the captains for 
each year. 

Randolph did not matriculate at Cambridge for over 
a year after his election, yet it is quite certain that he 
entered the university before the date given in the col- 
lege register. (Of the four others elected to Cambridge 
with him, the three whom I have been able to trace all 
matriculated the year before he did, yet all secured 
their scholarships at the same time and two of them 
took both the B.A. and M.A. degrees with him; the 
third was not graduated.) ^ He was entered on the 

^ That it was not necessary at this time to matriculate as soon as 
one entered the university is shown by the case of Heath, who was 
elected to Trinity from Westminster in 1624; he secured his fellow- 
ship in 1625 but did not matriculate until 1626, yet he took both 
degrees in the usual length of time after his election. 



10 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

college books on July 8, 1624/ as a lesser pensioner,^ 
the usual status of one whose father was in moderate 
circumstances, for it implied that he was able to pay 
for his son's board and education. During that same 
year, however, he was given a scholarship in accordance 
with the terms of his appointment from Westminster.^ 
Masson, in his life of Milton, whose career at Cam- 
bridge coincided so closely with that of Randolph, has 
given us a very good picture of the general life at the 
university during this period.* Of Randolph's part 
in this life during the earlier portion of his course we 
know practically nothing; he contributed to the Cam- 
bridge collection of verses celebrating the marriage of 
Charles and Henrietta Maria in 1625 ^ (probably the 
first of his poems to appear in print), and to the collec- 
tion called forth in 1626 by the death of Bacon.® We 
also know that he wrote upon occasion English verses 
which circulated among his fellows and that as early 
as 1626 at least, he had acquired the reputation of a 
wit.'^ In January 1627-8, having fulfilled all the re- 
quirements, he was graduated B.A., his name standing 
eighth on the list of bachelors.^ 

^ Hazlitt from A. G. Greenhill of Cambridge. 

* J. Venn & J. A. Venn, Book of Matriculations and Degrees. 
W. W. R. Ball & J. A. Venn, Admissions to Trinity College. 

* Admissions to T. C. These scholarships were awarded to the 
students as soon after the election as any fell vacant, but in practi- 
cally every case at this time they were not given until the student 
had been at the university for about a year. 

* In Fuller's History of Cambridge (1840) there is a plan of the town 
as it was only a few years after Randolph left it. 

^ See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. i, p. 42. 

* See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 2. 

^ See the quotation from Fuller given on p. 369. 

* This is the date given by Hazlitt; the Book of Matric. and De- 
grees and the Admissions to T. C. give merely 1627-8. Kottas gives 



INTRODUCTION 1 1 

That he was something more than a good fellow and 
merry companion is amply demonstrated by a letter ^ 
written on Aug. ii, 1629, to Lord Holland the Chan- 
cellor, by Leonard Mawe the Master of Trinity, in 
which he recommends to him "Thomas Randolph, B.A., 
one of extraordinary parts of wit and learning, and so 
approved by the whole University that scarce an age 
brings forth a better or the like. If he had been capable 
of a fellowship at the last election the writer had cer- 
tainly provided for him but not being so he begs the Earl 
to procure for him his Majesties mandatory letter. He 
has no friends to solicit for him but the Bishop of Lin- 
coln 2 under whom he was bred at Westminster, and 
the writer under whom he has lived for four years in 
Trinity College." We do not know whether the king 
did interest himself in the young man (we know that 
he was in the habit of interfering in university elec- 
tions), but at any rate Randolph was created a minor 
Fellow on the 22d of September 1629.^ In all prob- 
ability he had spent the intervening time at the uni- 
versity studying for his M.A. degree in accordance with 
the usual custom. Apparently the only thing that he 
published during this period was a Latin poem of four 
lines, prefixed to Plumptre's Epigrammata,* but two 

the date as March 27, 1628. The truth apparently is that the 
candidates finished their work at any time during the term, were 
pronounced to be Bachelors of Arts at the end of the term, but 
were allowed to date their degrees from the beginning of it. (Mas- 
son, 155.) 

1 Preserved in the Record Office: Domestic Papers, Charles II, 
148, 34. 

2 This was John Williams, who later became Archbishop of York; 
he had been Dean of Westminster while Randolph was at the school. 

' Hazlitt; Book of Matric. and Degrees. 
* See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 3. 



12 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

at least of his English poems, which were not published 
till later, may be ascribed to this year.^ 

In the following April the University was closed on 
account of the plague and did not open until November,^ 
and it is very likely that Randolph spent at least part 
of this time in London. To this period, or possibly to 
a still earlier date, must be referred his introduction 
to the "Sons of Ben," which certainly did take place 
even if not in the form described by Winstanley; ^ Ben 
Jonson and Lord Zouche were intimate friends, and it 
is very likely indeed that the former had visited at 
Houghton and had made the acquaintance of the 
bright young son of his friend's steward. It would 
therefore be very natural that Randolph, who was be- 
ginning to come into notice as a poet and wit, should 
resolve when he was in London "to go see Ben. Johnson 
with his associates, which as he heard at a set-time 
kept a Club together at the Devil-Tavern near Temple- 
Bar; accordingly, at the time appointed he went thither, 
but being unknown to them, and wanting Money, 
which to an ingenious spirit is the most daunting thing 
in the World, he peep'd into the Room where they were, 
which being espied by Ben Johnson, and seeing him in 
a Scholars thred-bare habit, John Bo-peep, says he, 
come in, which accordingly he did, when immediately 
they began to rime upon the meanness of his Clothes, 

^ On six Maids bathing themselves in a River (see p. 366), and the 
Towns-mens Petition of Cambridge (see p. 366). 

^ Commons at Trinity ceased April 30, and were resumed on No- 
vember 20. Cooper, Annals, 3, 223 and 228. 

' Much doubt has been cast upon the truth of this story on the 
ground that it is highly fanciful, but I see no reason why it may not 
be substantially correct. The fact that Randolph had most probably 
already met Jonson seems to have been overlooked. 



INTRODUCTION 1 3 

asking him, If he could not make a Verse? and withal 
to call for his Quart of Sack; there being four of them, 
he immediately thus replied, 

'I John Bo peep, to you four sheep, 

With each one his good fleece, 
If that you are willing to give me five shilling, 
'Tis fifteen pence a piece.' 

By Jesus, quoth Ben. Johnson (his usual oath), I believe 
this is my Son Randolph, which being made known to 
them, he was kindly entertained into their company, 
and Ben. Johnson ever after called him Son." 

It was at about this time that the Aristippus and 
the Pedler, which had already been acted privately, 
probably at Cambridge, were printed. Two editions 
by different publishers appeared within a short time 
of each other,^ but neither bore Randolph's name, 
and the authorship seems not to have been gener- 
ally known for some time.^ Possibly he wrote at 
this time his answer to Jonson's Ode to Himself, for 
his poem seems to have been written before that 

1 John Mariott "entered for his copy" in the S. R. Mar. 26, 1630 
(Arber 4, 231), and Robert Allot entered for the "Pedler by R. Dav- 
enport" (a minor poet of the period) on Apr. 8 (Arber 4, 232). From 
a later entry (July i, 1637, Arber 4, 387) we see that the title to the 
Aristippus rested with Allot, who had republished it in 163 1 and again 
in 1635. It would seem as if Harper had in some way secured a copy 
of the play and proceeded to print it, and Randolph, learning of this, 
had furnished Allot with a correct text and, so far as he could, with 
the rights to it; why Davenport's name should have been used in 
the entry I cannot see, unless it was through him that the arrange- 
ments were made. 

"^ In the poem by Hemmings, in MS. Ashmole 38 (mentioned on 
P- 357) there is a reference to the Aristippus as the work of an 
unknown writer, not Randolph. 



14 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

ode was printed in 1631.^ According to Miss Marks ^ 
his Entertainment, the original version of the Muses 
Looking-Glass, was Ucensed on Nov, 25, 1630, having 
apparently been acted in the previous summer; Sir 
Aston Cokain says that it met with a good reception 
when presented.^ 

As soon as the university opened again in the fall, 
he probably returned to Cambridge and resumed his 
studies there, for in 163 1, three years after taking his 
Bachelor's degree, he was graduated M.A.'* Unlike the 
B.A. degrees, which were conferred quite informally 
during term time, the Master's degrees were awarded 
at the annual commencement held early in July, and 
it was at this time undoubtedly that Randolph took his.^ 
Some time during the same year (the exact date is 
unknown) he was incorporated M.A. at Oxford,^ a 
rather unusual honor for one who had so recently taken 
that degree from his own university, and a testimonial 

^ Tennant, in his edition of Jonson's New Inne (p. xxv), makes it 
appear certain that the poem is an answer to an earlier version than 
that printed in 163 1. 

^ English Pastoral Drama, p. 167. 

' Poems, p. III. 

* Book 0/ Matric. and Degrees. Admissions to T.C. 

* Hazlitt is not at all clear here, but he apparently means that 
Randolph became M.A. on March 23, 163 1-2. This date does not 
fit in so well with the other facts of his life, and besides both the Book 
of Matric. and Degrees and the Admissions to T.C. give 163 1, not 
1631-2. In the case of his B.A. which he took in the spring, both 
of these books give 1627-8. There is additional proof that Randolph 
took his degree at the regular commencement in 163 1, for he acted 
as Praevaricator in the following spring, and the person to perform 
this office was always selected one year ahead of time, from among 
those graduating M.A. then. The person chosen to act at the com- 
mencement in the next year was always the last one sworn, although 
usually one of the first to be called. (Peacock xxvi.) 

* Wood, Fasti, i, 461. 



INTRODUCTION 1 5 

to the respect with which he was regarded not only by 
his fellows but by his superiors as well. 

The rule requiring every person who took the master's 
degree to reside at the university for five years longer 
had long been a dead letter, and most students left 
as soon as they were graduated, but Randolph, holding 
a fellowship and apparently finding the life congenial, 
remained. During this year he contributed some Latin 
verses to the Cambridge volume celebrating the birth 
of Princess Mary,^ and also secured what was un- 
doubtedly the greatest literary success of his whole 
career. 

The King and Queen had announced their intention 
of paying a visit to the University, and great prepara- 
tions were made for celebrating so important an event, 
and for making their stay pleasant. Among the other 
festivities it was decided that a play should be pre- 
sented, a form of entertainment common at the uni- 
versities, and upon this occasion, perhaps out of 
deference to the distinguished guests, the play was to 
be in English. Two persons prepared and submitted 
comedies for presentation: Peter Hausted of Queens, 
whose Senile Odium had been acted at the University 
during the previous year, and Thomas Randolph, 
whose ability had not yet received any such public 
recognition, but who was already very favorably 
known to a great number of the students, particularly, 
of course, to those of his own college. 

The whole university took sides with the two candi- 
dates, and in order to settle the question it was finally 
decided that both plays should be presented. Through 
the influence of Dr. Butts, the Vice-Chancellor, Haus- 
^ See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 4. 



l6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

ted arranged that his play, the Rival Friends, should 
be acted first. It was presented on the 19th of March ^ 
and proved an utter failure, partially, no doubt, be- 
cause, as Hausted charged, it was deliberately cried 
down by the opposing faction, but chiefly because of 
its dullness. Randolph's play, the Jealous Lovers^ 
which apparently was presented on the following day, 
was a great success; not only was it liked by the 
university, but, what was of much more importance, 
the King, and Queen, and the Court were all well 
pleased with it; ^ so well pleased that the Lord Chan- 
cellor severely reproved Dr. Butts for his bad taste 
in preferring Hausted's comedy and, indeed, in allow- 
ing the Rival Friends to be given at all. This rebuke, 
originating apparently with the king, so upset the 
Doctor who was already overloaded with troubles, that 
he hanged himself upon Easter morning. 

At the Commencement held in June of that year 
(the year in which Milton took his M.A.) Randolph 
filled the office of Praevaricator, the licensed joker 
without whom no Commencement at this period was 
considered complete. The speech he delivered upon 
this occasion has been preserved,^ and is of compara- 
tively little merit; but the fact that of all the graduates 
of the year before, he should have been the one chosen 
to this office, apparently an elective one, is in itself sig- 

^ The title-page of the Rival Friends gives this date, as does Wood; 
Sir Simonds D'Ewes {Life, 2, 67) says that the King and Queen ar- 
rived on the 19th, and left on the 20th. Baker, however (Cooper, 
Annals 3, 249), says that they arrived on the 22d. 

^ See the verses prefixed to the Jealous Lovers, especially those by 
James Duport. 

' Hazlitt reprinted it from a MS. formerly in the Huth Collection. 
The conclusion is found also in MS. Rawl. Poet 62. 



INTRODUCTION 1 7 

nificant. We must not, however, overlook the fact 
that Randolph was something more than a wit and a 
merry companion; ^ he was also a man of large intellect 
and learning, who seems to have fulfilled the duties in 
connection with his fellowship in a highly satisfactory 
manner.^ 

With the Commencement of 1632 his connection 
with the University (except for a contribution to the 
volume celebrating the king's return from Scotland in 
1633) ^ apparently ceases, for about this time we find 
him again in London. Perhaps his success as an 
amateur dramatist tempted him to try his fortune in 
connection with the metropolitan stage. Fleay's con- 
jecture that he served as assistant manager of the 
newly organized company at the Salisbury Court The- 
atre certainly fits the facts well, although there seems 
to be absolutely no direct proof of his connection with 
this company. What we do know is, that he suddenly 
acquired considerable familiarity with the technique 
of dramatic composition, and although it is quite 
possible that he learned this from Jonson and the other 

1 Sir Aston Cockain, writing to Sir Robert Hilliard, speaks of him 
as one: 

"Whom you and I so well did love and know 
When Cambridge (for his wit) extol'd him so." 

but perhaps a greater tribute, because not intended as one, is that in 
Shadwell's Bury Fair (i, i) where Oldwit boasts: "but at Cam- 
bridge none so great as I with Jack Cleveland; But Tom Randolph 
and I were Hand and Glove; Tom was a brave fellow; the most 
ingenious poet." 

- See Richard West's account (verses prefixed to the Poems) of 
Randolph's skill in the exercises of the schools. 

^ See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 5. Randolph did not contribute 
to the Cambridge collection celebrating the king's recovery from the 
small-pox (Dec. 1632) or that on the birth of the Duke of York 
(Oct. 1633). 



1 8 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

playwrights with whom he was upon intimate terms, 
it seems more Hkely that it came as the result of constant 
close association with the stage. It was at this time 
that he produced his Amyntas, which was acted at Court ' 
and apparently in one of the theatres as well; probably \ 
he also revised his Entertcnmnent, now called the Muses i 
Looking-Glass, for a number of allusions in it seem to 
point to about this date. Malone's suggestion that 
he may have assisted in the preparation of the second 
(1632) folio of Shakespeare's works is worth abso- 
lutely nothing unless it was based upon some more 
information than he has left us.^ 

The qualities which had made him such a favorite 
at Cambridge made him equally popular in London, 
not only with Ben Jonson and his circle, with whom he 
seems to have been upon terms of great intimacy, but 
with the fine gentlemen as well, and even at Court he 
was apparently no stranger.^ But this popularity had 
its darker side as well, for the following story, given by 
Winstanley, certainly has some truth in it. He was 
making merry "in Gentlemen's company" and "as it 
often happens that in drinking high quarrels arise, so 
there chanced some words to pass between Mr. Ran- 
dolph and another gentleman, which grew to be so high, 
that the Gentleman drawing his sword, and striking at 
Mr. Randolph, cut off his little finger, whereupon, in an 
extemporary humour he instantly made these Verses.* 

Arithmetick nine digits" etc,^ 

^ See Boswell's note in Malone's Shakespeare, 2, 656. 

* See the verses by Richard West prefixed to the Poems. 

' W. R. Chetwood {British Theatre) gives a different account, 
saying that this accident occurred when he tried to separate two 
friends who were fighting. 

* See p. 103. 



INTRODUCTION 1 9 

The excesses into which the "Uberal conversation of 
his admirers" led him undermined his constitution, 
and he was obHged to leave London and go into the 
country in the hope of regaining his health. He spent 
some time at Little Houghton in the home of his father, 
engaged in his "delightful studies," as Wood calls 
them, until one day, meeting William Stafford of Blath- 
erwyck (a relative of his old friend Anthony Stafford), 
he was by him engaged as tutor to his son and heir, 
receiving therefor an allowance of £ioo per year.^ 
Not very long after this he died in Stafford's house, 
under precisely what circumstances we do not know, 
but the general impression was that his death was the 
result of his irregular mode of living.^ 

On the 17th of March, 1634-5, he was buried in 
Blatherwyck Church, "on the south side, at the lower 
end of the north chancel," ' among the members of 
the Stafford family. Soon afterward a monument of 
white marble, wreathed about with laurel, was erected 
over his grave at the expense of Sir Christopher (after- 
wards Lord) Hatton of Kirby; the inscription upon 
it, which was composed by Randolph's friend and for- 
mer rival, Peter Hausted, is indeed, as Aubrey says, 
puerile. 

1 Aubrey's expression is, "I think Ci per annum"; I think 
Aubrey's explanation a much better one than that usually given: 
that Randolph was visiting Stafford purely as a friend. 

* Wood, Langbaine, Bridges, etc. 

* Bridges, Northamptonshire, 2, 280. 



20 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



MEMORISE SACRUM 

Thome Randolphi (dum inter pauciores) Faelicis- 
simi et facillimi ingenil Juvenis necnon majora pro- 
mittentis si fata virum non invidissent saeculo. 

Her sleepe thirteene 
Together in one tombe, 
And all these greate, yet quarrell not for rome: 
The Muses and y^ Graces teares did meete 
And grav'd these letters on y^ churlish sheete, 
Who having wept their fountaines drye 
Through the conduit of the eye, 
For their friend who here does lye, 
Crept into his grave and dyed, 
And soe the Riddle is untyed. 
For w'^" this Church, proud y* the Fates bequeath 
Unto her ever honour'd trust 
Soe much and that soe precious dust, 
Hath crown'd her Temples with an luye wreath, 
W^" should have Laurelle beene 
But y*^ the grieved plant to see him dead 
Tooke pet and withered. 



Cujus cineres brevi hac (qua potuit) iiinortalitate 
donat Christopherus Hatton, Miles de Balneo, et 
Musarii amator, illius veto (quem deflemus) sup- 
plenda carminibus quae marmoris et aeris scandalum 
manebunt perpetuum. 



INTRODUCTION 21 

Of Randolph's personal appearance we are able to 
form a fairly clear idea; a portrait of him,^ probably 
engraved by Marshall, appears in the frontispiece of 
the 1640 edition of the Poems, and in some, but not all, 
of the copies of each of the subsequent editions.^ 
Aubrey tells us that "he was of a pale ill complexion 
and pock-bitten," and Randolph himself tells us that 
he was marked by the small-pox. His hair was of very 
light flaxen, almost white, and was flaggy as may be 
seen from his picture. He was of middle height or 
slightly less; "of about my stature or scarce so tall" 
says Aubrey, who tells us elsewhere that he himself 
was of middle stature. 

HI. The Character of his Writings 

Randolph's fame was great indeed in his own day 
but it was as "one of the most pregnant wits of his age,' 
rather than as a poet, that most people thought of him 
Even those who did apply to him the term "poet' 
were thinking, as they did so, rather of his "witty' 
and "ingenious" poems, his timely satire, and his clever 
comedies, than of these qualities which we usually asso- 
ciate with the idea of true poetry. Randolph's verse 
is by no means devoid of these attributes, for although 
it lacks any great depth of feeling he does exhibit con- 
siderable lightness and grace in much of his work. 

1 Hazlitt is very probably correct when he interprets the inscrip- 
tion "iEtatis suae 27" as meaning that he was 27 when the likeness of 
him was made, but an interesting coincidence is that Aubrey, who 
states that he was born in June 1605, and died in March 1634 
[1634-5], refers to his death as having taken place in his twenty- 
eighth year. 

'^ According to Baker {Northamptonshire), this was republished 
by Rodd, but I have not been able to find a copy of this reprint. 



•22 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

But these qualities were common to the age and were 
possessed in equal or even greater degree by a number of 
his contemporaries, so that they alone would not suf- 
fice to raise a man very much above the common level; 
even Herrick, who possessed them in such a preemi- 
nent degree, was scarcely known in his own day. 

I do not feel, as some critics have, that English poetry 
suffered any very great loss through the premature 
death of Randolph, because I believe that any poetic 
talent he may have possessed had had ample oppor- 
tunity to assert itself before he died. From early youth 
he had been given constant practice in writing verses, 
and he must also have read a great quantity of the mas- 
terpieces of Greece and Rome, not only because this 
was required in school and college, but also because his 
tastes were decidedly classical. Very likely, as he was 
fond of reading, he knew most of the English poets as 
well, but the classics are in themselves good models for 
a young poet. When we consider that in addition to 
this early training, he enjoyed the friendship of most 
of the poets of his day, we may safely assume that any 
genius he may have had in this direction would not have 
lain dormant. Had he lived another thirty years the 
general average of his work would certainly have been 
much higher, and he might have gained somewhat in 
sweetness and delicacy, but his work would still have 
been of much the same character as the more mature 
of those poems which he has left us. 

In the field of drama, however, the case is far different. 
Most of the plays which he witnessed before coming to 
London must have been the productions of classical 
drama, or of plays of the classical type, acted at school 
and at the university. It was because he followed too 



INTRODUCTION 2J 

closely these classical models that his early plays are, 
from our point of view, failures. The Jealous Lovers, 
although it has many good features, is essentially 
unnatural in plot, while the Muses Looking-Glass can 
hardly be called a play at all. When Randolph re- 
vised it he inserted scenes and characters from London^ 
life as he had come to know it, but the general outline 
of the piece he did not and could not change. The best 
of his early work is the Aristippus, which does not pre- 
tend to be a play at all; here, unhampered by any 
conventions or preconceived ideas of form, he has given' 
us a very realistic picture of the life he knew, greatly 
exaggerated, of course, for the sake of humor. 

It is very probable that he had read the plays of 
Shakespeare and Jonson and perhaps of other English- 
dramatists, but if so he was evidently unable to appre- 
ciate them at this time. A play intended for the stage 
loses half its force when read, especially when one is 
acquainted only with a totally different type of drama. 
It must therefore have been something in the nature of 
a revelation to Randolph when he came to London and 
got into really close touch with the vigorous native 
type of drama. Play-writing demands a much longer 
apprenticeship than does the writing of poetry, yet in 
Randolph's case a very short acquaintance with practi- 
cal stagecraft worked wonders. The plot of the Amyn- 
tas, apparently the only one of his plays written wholly 
after he came to London, is by no means faultless, but 
many of its defects are those inherent in the pastoral 
drama, while others common to the type have been 
skilfully avoided. In many ways the plot shows a 
great amount of ingenuity, and, compared with other 
plays of the type, the situations are natural and the 



24 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

characters well drawn. The Amyntas is not merely 
a good pastoral; ^ it is very significant also as an indi- 
cation of Randolph's growing familiarity with the 
possibilities and limitations of the acted drama. 

The parts of the Muses Looking-Glass which bear the 
stamp of his more mature workmanship also show 
decided promise. The characters remind us strongly 
of Jonson, but Randolph, although he had great respect 
for the old dramatist, was by no means content to follow 
him slavishly. Here, as in other cases, he took the 
suggestion which seemed to him good and developed 
it for himself, and as time went on and he came to 
know more different sides of life, he would probably 
have developed a style more and more his own and less 
based upon the work of any one else. 

His greatness therefore lies more in promise than in 
fulfilment; he had nearly all of the qualities which 
make a great dramatist, but he had not yet realized his 
powers and learned to use them to the best advantage. 
This, I think, would have come in time. If he had 
lived for a few years longer, keeping in close touch 
with the theatre, and in equally close touch with life, 
he might very probably have produced realistic com- 
edies that would have rivalled the best work of his 
master, Jonson himself. 

1 Most critics agree in giving it third place among the English 
plays of this type, while a number rank it ahead of Jonson's Sad 
Shepherd, and second only to Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. 



INTRODUCTION 



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26 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

IV. Other Members of the Randolph Family^ 

The children of WiUiam Randolph of Little Hough- 
ton and of Elizabeth his first wife were: 

I. Thomas, the poet, born June 15, 1605, and died, 
unmarried, in March 1634-5. His life has 
already been given. 

II. William, baptized on Oct. 18, 1607. He settled 
at Ascot in the County of Northampton, where 
he was still living in 1682. He married three 
times; by his first wife Margaret, the daughter 
of William Burket of Bugbroke in the County 
of Northampton, he had the following children : 

1. Elizabeth, who died unmarried. 

2. Alice, who married James Neale, son of 

Robert Neale of Fiffield in the County of 
Northampton. 

3. Margaret, who married William Walters of 

Eastcot in the Parish of PattishuU in the 
County of Northampton. 

4. William, who settled at Harrington in the 

County of Northampton; he died about 
the year 1675, aged about 40. His wife 
Elizabeth, who was the daughter of 
Richard Sherman of Hornton in the 
County of Oxford, left him two children: 

{a) Elizabeth, born about 1666. 
{b) Thomas, born about 1668. 

5. Thomas, who died unmarried. 

1 Much of this material has never before appeared in print, and is 
not accessible even in a large library, so that its inclusion seems amply 



INTRODUCTION 27 

The second wife of William Randolph of Ascot 
was Marie, the widow of Theodore Marks of 
PatishuU in the County of Warwick. She 
left no children. His third wife Sarah, the 
daughter of Thomas Ladbrooke of Cubbing- 
ton in the County of Warwick, was still living 
in 1682. She bore him three more children: 

6. Sarah, who married Thomas Bodington of 

Codington in the County of Warwick. 

7. Samuel, who in 1682 was living in London 

in Pye Corner by Smithfield. He mar- 
ried Sarah, the daughter of Richard 
Pinkerd of Ascot in the County of 
Northampton, by whom he had: 
(a) A daughter. 

8. John, born about 1654; living unmarried 

in 1682. 

HI. Robert. He was baptized on May 26, 161 1. 
Educated at Westminster School, whence he 
was elected to Christ Church, Oxford, in 1629. 
He was graduated B.A. June i, 1633, and M.A. 
May 3, 1636 (as Randall). He became vicar 
of Barnetby and afterwards of Donington in 
Holland, Lincolnshire, where he was buried 
on July 7, 1671. He edited the works of his 
brother Thomas after the latter's death, and 
also wrote a number of poems of his own. He 
married twice; his first wife, who was the 

daughter of Whitestone of Whittlesey in 

the Isle of Ely, bore him one son: 

justified. In general this section follows the Northamptonshire 
Visitation of 1682, but I have corrected and amplified this from other 
sources. 



28 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

I. Thomas, who was born about 1651, and who 
died unmarried on July 25, 1671. 

His second wife was Joyce, the widow of 

Weston. She died without issue. 

IV. Elizabeth, who was baptized on Nov. 27, 161 3. 
She married George Burket of Bugbrook in 
the County of Northampton. 
The children of William Randolph of Little Hough- 
ton and of his second wife Dorothy were: 

V. John, who was born at Little Houghton in 1619, 
and died in April 1680. He was an attorney 
and settled at Toceter in the County of 
Northampton. He married Dorothy, daugh- 
ter of Lewis Attebury of Great Houghton, and 
had one son: 

I. William, who was born Nov. 17, 1643, and 
who in 1682 was still living unmarried. 

VL Richard, baptized Feb. 23, 1621. He settled 
at Morton Morall in the County of Warwick 
and died (in Dublin) in May 1678. He mar- 
ried Elizabeth, daughter of John Riland, 
Gent., of the County of Warwick, and sister 
to Archdeacon Riland. They had the follow- 
ing children: 

1. Richard, a stationer of London. He mar- 

ried but died without issue. 

2. William, born in 165 1 and emigrated to 

Virginia (about 1674), where he died on 
Apr. II, 171 1. He became quite promi- 
nent in the colony, being known as 
Colonel William Randolph of Turkey 
Island, and from him is descended the 



INTRODUCTION 29 

famous family of the Randolphs of 
Virginia,^ (For further details in regard 
to him or his descendants, see T. A. 
Glenn, Colonial Mansions, 433, or L. P. 
du Bellet, Virginia Families, 2, 129.) 
He and his descendants used the old 
Randolph arms of the five mullets on a 
cross, and there is still preserved in the 
Henrico County Court House a paper 
dated 1698, which shows the seal of Col. 
William Randolph, bearing these arms.^ 

3. Thomas, died unmarried. 

4. John, living in the Strand in London in 

1682. 

5. Dorothy. In 1682 she was unmarried and 

was living at the home of Sir Edward 
Boughton in Warwickshire. 

6. Mary, married in the County 

of Dorset. 
VII. Henry, baptized Nov. 27, 1623. He went into 
Virginia about 1642, married two wives there, 
and had issue by both. 

VIII. Anne. Baptized Feb. 8, 1625, and died in the 
following year. 

IX. George, baptized July 29, 1627. He was "acci- 
dently slain in the late wars" June 5, 1645, 
and was buried at Harrington in the County 
of Northampton. 

1 Henry Randolph (VII) also left children in Virginia, and one of 
the Kent branch of the family likewise settled there, but the Ran- 
dolphs who were prominent in the affairs of the colony trace their 
descent to Colonel William. 

* Glenn, 434; Crozier, Virginia Heraldica, 16. 



30 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

X. Margaret, baptized Apr. 30, 1629. She mar- 
ried Roger Philips, an Apothecary in Brent- 
ford, in the County of Middlesex. 

XI. Judith, baptized Aug. 30, 1630. She married 
Henry Welton of Brentford. 

V. The Amyntas 

{a) History 

The Enghsh pubhc never took very kindly to the 
pastoral type of drama, and the Amyntas was no 
exception to this rule. It made little or no stir at the 
time it was presented, and for this reason it is difficult, 
if not impossible, to discover anything definite about 
its stage history. 

We know from the title-page of the printed editions 
that it was acted before the King and Queen at White- 
hall (in 1632-3, by the Queen's men, says Fleay), but 
we are absolutely ignorant of the nature of the reception 
it met there.^ It must also have been acted at one of 
the regular theatres, or at least have been prepared for 
such presentation, for, as Fleay points out, the pro- 
logue and epilogue are not suitable for a court perform- 
ance. So far as I have been able to discover, it was 
never revived, although an altered version of it, under 
the title of the Fickle Shepherdess, was presented about 
the beginning of the eighteenth century. 

1 The "Pastorall," which is recorded by Sir Henry Herbert as 
having been played at Court on Easter Tuesday in 1634, is, accord- 
ing to Fleay, Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. 



INTRODUCTION 3 1 

{b) Sources ^ 

The Amyntas owes its indebtedness to a general type 
rather than to any individual play, for in neither plot 
nor characters has Randolph borrowed bodily from any 
other work. What he has done is to create, using situ- 
ations and characters taken here and there from various 
sources, a play which is distinctly his own, although 
reminding us at every turn of something familiar. 

In his attempt to create a pastoral drama which would 
be acceptable to an English audience, Randolph has 
fused together two quite dissimilar elements: the Italian 
pastoral type, which was never really naturalized upon 
the English stage, and the comedy element which had 
been so essential a part of the native English drama ever 
since its origin. When one tries to trace incidents and 
situations, rather than a complete plot, back to their 
sources, it is very easy to overemphasize the indebted- 
ness of one work to another, for many of these incidents 
are common to a number of writers, besides being of so 
simple a character that they might occur to any author 
quite independently. This is particularly true in the 
case of the pastoral drama, in which a certain number 
of types and situations came to be standardized, so 
that all later plays were composed of new combinations 
of the old material. 

^ The general subject of the pastoral drama has been so fully 
considered by Gregg in his work on the pastoral, that it seemed idle 
to attempt anything of the kind here. He has also given a rather 
extended discussion of the Amyntas and its place in the movement, 
and to that book the reader is referred for information on this subject. 
All that I have endeavored to do is to bring together the possible 
sources mentioned by Gregg and Kottas, and to add some others which 
they have overlooked. 



32 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Randolph's greatest debt is undoubtedly to the 
/ Aminta (1573) of Tasso and the Pastor Fido (1590) of 

Guarini, the two finest examples of this type of lit- 
erature. Both of these plays had appeared in English 
/ translations before the time when the Amyntas was writ- 

ten, so that a familiarity with them does not pre-suppose 
any knowledge of Italian on the part of Randolph. 
/ Medorus' narration of the events which led up to 

/ the curse upon Sicilia resembles very closely that of 

Ergasto in the Pastor Fido (i, 2), and the prayer of the 
rejected lover which caused the goddess to lay this 
curse upon the country is likewise much the same in the 
, two plays (except that in the Amyntas it is the father 

/ of the lover, not the lover himself, who makes the 

I prayer). The ambiguous oracle with which the goddess 

answered the prayers of her suppliants is a fairly com- 
mon stock device, found in the Pastor Fido, but also in 
such works as Rutter's Shepherd's Holiday (not printed 
until 1635 but acted earlier), Daniel's Hymen s Triumph, 
and the Maydes Metamorphosis (by Lyly?). The an- 
swering of questions by the Echo was a device suffi- 
ciently common to excite the ridicule of Butler in his 
Hudibras. Examples of it occur in the Pastor Fido and 
Sidney's Arcadia. Damon's sudden discovery of his 
love for Amaryllis after he had wounded her resembles 
quite closely the scene between Silvio and Dorinda in 
the Pastor Fido (4, 9), and the scene where Pilumnus 
is saved, by a very unexpected interpretation of the 
meaning of the oracle, from the sacrifice of his son, bears a 
slight resemblance to the sacrifice scene in the same play. 
The Damon-Amaryllis situation (that of a man in 
love with a woman who spurns him, while he in turn is 
loved by a woman whom he spurns) is one of the most 



INTRODUCTION 33 

obvious of all, and is found in innumerable plays. 
Some of those which approach nearest to the situation 
here are the Midsummer Night's Dream, Daniel's 
^een's Arcadia, Rutter's Shepherd's Holiday, and 
Hausted's Rival Friends. Laurinda, the "wavering 
nymph," is but an expansion of the common pastoral 
type of the shepherdess who is courted by all, but, being 
averse to love, accepts none of her suitors. Randolph 
seems to have intended to make her actions seem more 
natural by giving her a motive for them. Gregg thinks 
that her inability to decide between her two lovers may 
owe something to Bonarelli's Filli di Sciro (especially 
3, i), but I think it more likely that, if we are to seek 
a source at all, it may be found in Hausted's Rival 
Friends, with which we. can be positive Randolph was 
familiar. (It is true that the idea here is not carried 
out to such a length as it is in the Filli di Sciro, but Ran- 
dolph required no more than a hint to set his mind work- 
ing.) The contention between Damon and Alexis as 
to which of them Laurinda preferred is closely paralleled 
by that between Carinus and Amyntas in Daniel's 
Queen's Arcadia. 

Dorylas, the chief comedy character, is Randolph's 
own creation, although he reminds us somewhat of 
Joculo in the Maydes Metamorphosis (one of the attend- 
ant "elves" in the Amyntas is named Joculo), or of 
the pages of Lyly's comedies. Mopsus and Jocastus, 
characters in the style of Jonson, are probably of Ran- 
dolph's own creation likewise, although the former may 
very possibly have been suggested * by the "Mopso, 
ch' intende il parlar de gli augelli," of the Aminta (i, 2), 

^ The name Mopsus was borne by two of the seers of the early 
Greeks. 



34 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

even as Claius seems to have been inspired by the song 
of Lamon in Book I of the Arcadia. 

"Claius for skill of herbs and shepherds art 
Among the wisest was accounted wise." 

The trick played upon Jocastus by Dorylas resembles 
somewhat the scene in the Merry Wives, where the 
pseudo-fairies pinch FalstafF, singing as they do so, and 
it also has certain points of similarity with the scene in 
the Alchemist, where Dol, as the Queen of Faery, imposes 
upon Dapper; I think that a closer parallel than either 
of these can be found in the Rival Friends, where the 
Bedlam, disguised as Oberon, imposes upon Stipes and 
his daughter Merda, promising,' among other things, 
that he will make Stipes a gentleman. The promised 
change in the sex of Jocastus reminds us of the Galla- 
thea of Lyly or of the Maydes Metamorphosis, where 
Eurymine is changed into a man and later into a 
woman again. 

(c) The Fickle Shepherdess 

Who the author of this adaptation was seems never 
to have been known, as all the early historians of the 
stage class it as "Anonymous." According to Chet- 
wood {British Theatre) it was produced in 1695, but it 
was not printed until 1703, when an edition appeared 
"as it is acted in the New Theatre in Lincoln's Inn 
Fields by Her Majestie's Servants." Genest (2, 293) 
thinks from the prologue that it was acted in the spring, 
but he can give us no information beyond what we find 
in the printed copies of the play.^ 

1 It is quite possible that a search through the newspapers in the 
British Museum might yield something; those which I have been 
able to secure here do not mention the play. 



INTRODUCTION 35 

According to the title-page of this play it was "played 
all by women." The cast for the performance was: 

Clorinda, a Fickle Shepherdess M. Barry 

Amintas, a mad shepherd in love with Urania Mrs. Bracegirdle 

Damon 1 Two rivals in "1 Mrs. Bowman 

Alexis / love with Clorinda / Mrs. Prince 

Menalchas, Father to Clorinda Mrs. Willis 
Adrastus, High priest of Ceres, father of Damon and Urania Mrs. Lee 

Amaryllis, in love with Damon Mrs. Porter 

Urania, in love with Amintas Mrs. Alison 

Flavia, an old Nymph, sister to Claius Mrs. Martin 

Claius, father to Amintas and Amaryllis Mrs. Lawson 

A Shepheard Miss Parsons 

Dorylas, a waggish boy The little Boy 

The changes made in the play are such as we might 
look for from a person altering it to suit the taste of 
the highly "correct" early eighteenth century. In 
order to secure unity of plot, Mopsus, Jocastus, Bro- 
mius, etc., had to go, together with the comedy scenes 
in which they took part. (In the scene of Amyntas' 
madness the Shepherd takes the part originally given to 
Mopsus.) In order that there may be no doubt con- 
cerning the motives of Laurinda, or Clorinda as she 
appears here, the play is made to begin with a scene in 
which she confesses her inability to decide between 
her two lovers. Damon's action in wounding Amaryllis 
deliberately is too rude for a refined age; in the later 
version she is injured when she runs in front of the spear 
which he throws at Alexis. 

In the greater part of the play the very words of 
Randolph are used, changed just sufficiently to make 
of it neither good verse nor good prose. This nonde- 
script is written as prose, and is interspersed with pas- 
sages of very Augustinian prose dialogue. Scattered 
throughout the play are dances and new songs. 



36 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

VI. The Text 

The first (1638) edition is by far the best text which 
we have of both the Poems and the Amyntas. It was 
evidently prepared with a considerable amount of 
care on the part of Robert Randolph, and from a 
purely mechanical point of view as well it is a very 
good piece of work. The second (1640) edition is not 
so carefully printed, but it may possibly contain cor- 
rections by Robert Randolph of some of the errors of 
the first edition; it also contains some things not in the 
first. The third edition {Poems 1643, Amyntas 1640) 
seems to have been printed from the second, while the 
fourth (1652) was almost certainly printed from the 
third. Both of these latter editions are very carelessly 
set up and abound in errors. The fifth edition {Poems 
1664, Amyntas 1662), a much better piece of work, seems 
to have been set up from the second, while the sixth and 
seventh (both 1668, the second of the two probably set 
up from the first of them) apparently follow the fifth. 
These are both well printed, but the compositor has 
taken great liberties with the text in order to bring it 
into harmony with his ideas of what Randolph wrote. 

The text which I give aims to be, as regards both 
spelling and punctuation, an exact reprint of the first 
edition, with the following exception: where obvious 
mistakes in the first edition have been corrected in the 
later ones I have adopted the correction, but in all such 
cases I have given the original reading in the footnotes ^ 
so that it will be possible for any reader who wishes 
to reconstruct the original text exactly. I have given 

^ Some of the oft-repeated but meaningless variations in the use 
of italics are noted in an appendix. 



INTRODUCTION 37 

in the same place all the variant readings of the later 
editions which may be of significance as altering either 
the sense or the metre of the earlier text. In some 
cases a poem appeared in some collection of verses be- 
fore it was included in the 1638 volume; I have recorded 
the variants of these texts also, adopting them where 
they seemed preferable, but in every such case recording 
the fact in the notes. 

In the case of the poems appearing first in the 1640 
volume I have been forced to follow the text of 1643 
(the other being exceedingly difficult to obtain), but as 
I have made a thorough collation of this with the earlier 
text, the differences which I have not mentioned in the 
footnotes will be confined to minor variations in spelling 
and italicizing. In the dramatic dialogue I have 
printed the half lines (which in the early editions always 
begin at the left of the page) in such a manner as to 
indicate their relation to the other half lines: in no 
case, however, have I ventured to alter the line division; 
where this seemed incorrect I have given my suggestions 
at the bottom of the page. 

In general I have ignored manuscript versions of 
poems which are to be found also in printed copies, 
as the latter are practically always the more reliable. 
Where in default of a better text it is necessary to rely 
upon a single manuscript or a single printed copy, I 
have endeavored to reproduce that text exactly, except 
that I have ventured to expand such manuscript ab- 
breviations as are usually given in full in the early 
printed books. 

Of the poems which have previously been credited to 
Randolph I have omitted, as certainly not his, the one 
Upon a Hermaphrodite (Hazlitt, p. 640), which is by 



38 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

John Cleveland; the To Dr Empiric (HazHtt, p. 655), 
which is by Ben Jonson; The high and mighty Com- 
mendation of the Virtue of a Pot of Good Ale (Hazhtt, 
p. 662), which is an old ballad;' and The Combat of the 
Cocks (Hazlitt, p. 677), which is by Robert Wild.^ 
I have not included the epitaph upon Drayton which 
in MS. Ashmole 38 is credited to "Tho: Randall," 
but which has been credited to Quarles, Jonson, 
Beaumont, and even to Drayton himself upon as 
good or better grounds; its authorship seems to have 
been in doubt even at the time when it was made 
(see Aubrey, i, 240). Neither have I included the 
ballad called The Merry Hoastess {Roxburgh Ballads, 
3, 306), which Chappell suggested might possibly be 
by Randolph, as it was printed with the initials T. R. 
some time before 1664; it is not in the least in his 
style. Furthermore I have omitted the dedicatory 
poems prefixed to the Jealous Lovers which are cer- 
tainly by Randolph, but which belong more properly 
with an edition of the play. 

I have not included Randolph's Latin poems in this 
edition, as they seem hardly to belong to English litera- 
ture and would, I believe, prove interesting to very 
few. They may all be found in Hazlitt's edition of the 
poet, with the exception of two short ones which I 
have given in the notes to this volume (pp. 350 and 360), 
a translation of Jonson's Ode to Himself which is found 
in the Crewe of Kind London Gossips, 1663, and the 
verses on the marriage of King Charles and Henrietta 
Maria, which occur in the Cambridge collection of 
verses entitled Epithalamium . . . Caroli . . . et H. 
Mariae (Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. i). 
1 See p. 41. 



INTRODUCTION 39 

VII. Bibliography 

I. Works published as Randolphs 

1. Aristippus or the loviall Philosopher: demon- 
strativeHe proouing, That Quartes, Pintes and Pottles, 
Are sometimes necessary Authors in a Scholers Library. 
Presented in a priuate Shew. To which is added, The 
Conceited Pedlar. Omnis Aristippum decuit color ^ 
status y res. Semel insaniuimus. London, Printed 
by Thomas Harper, C^tc] MDCXXX. 

Another edition was published in the same year by 
Robert Allot (see footnote, p. 13), who republished it 
in 163 1 and 1635. There is also a Dublin edition which 
was apparently published in 1635. Later editions 
(1652, 1662, and two in 1668) were included in the 
collected Works of Randolph. 

2. The Jealous Lovers a Comedie presented to their 
gracious majesties at Cambridge by the Students 
of Trinity-Colledge. Written by Thomas Randolph 
Master of Arts, and Fellow of the House. Valeat res 
ludicra, si me Palma 7iegata macrum, donata reducit 
opimum. Printed by the Printers to the Universitie 
of Cambridge. Ann. Dom. 1632. [etc. J 

This was reprinted in 1634, 1640, 1646, 1652, 1662, 
and twice in 1668. The first of these is occasionally, 
and the others are regularly, found with the collected 
editions. 

3 . Poems, With the Mvses Looking-glasse and Amyn- 
tas. By Thomas Randolph Master of Arts and late 
Fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge. Oxford 
Printed by Leonard Lichfield Printer to the Vniversity> 
for Francis Bowman; M.DC.XXXVIII. 



40 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

This was reprinted in 1640, with the addition, in 
some copies, of the Jealous Lovers; in 1643 with the 
Jealous Lovers; and in 1652, 1664, and 1668 (twice), 
with the Aristippus and the Pedlar also. 

The Harlelan Catalogue, printed in 1743, mentions an edition of 
Randolph's "Poems, translations, and Plays. London 1634, in 4*",*' 
and this edition has been mentioned by various persons, but no copy 
of it is now known, and it is possible that no such edition ever existed, 
as Randolph's contemporaries make no mention of it. 

4. The Mvses Looking-glasse. By T. R. Oxford, 
Printed by Leonard Lichfield, for Francis Bowman, 
1638. 

This was reprinted in 1640, 1643, 1652, 1662, and 
twice in 1668, each time in connection with the collected 
Works. It appeared again in i7o6(?), with a dedica- 
tion to (not by, as is usually stated) Jeremy Collier. It 
was included in Dodsley's Old Plays, except in the last 
edition, and in Scott's British Drama. 

5. Amyntas or the Impossible Dowry. A Pastorall 
acted before the King & Queene at White-Hall. 
Written by Thomas Randolph. Pastorem, Tityre, 
■pingues Pascere oportet oves, diductum dicere Carmen. 
Oxford, Printed by Leonard Lichfield for Francis 
Bowman. 1638. 

This was reprinted in 1640 (twice), 1652, 1662, and 
1668 (twice), each time in connection with the collected 
works. 

2. Works credited to Randolph, but whose authenticity 
is doubtful 

I. Cornelianvm Dolivm. Comoedia lepidissima, op- 
timorum judiciis approbata, h Theatrali coryphoeo, 
nee imme rito, donata, palma chorali apprime digna. 



INTRODUCTION 41 

Auctore, T.R. ingeniossimo hujus aevi Heliconio. 
Ludunt dum juvenes, lasciviunt Senes, Senescunt juvenes, 
juvenescunt Senes. Londini, apud Tho. Harperum. 
[etc.] 1638. 

This title-page, and the dedication, which speaks of 
the author as having recently died, apply to Randolph 
better than to any other T.R. of the time and I see 
no reason to question his authorship; it was credited 
to him as early as the time of Aubrey. Some of the 
Latin forms resemble the Latin of Richard Brathwaite, 
and it is possible that he may have revised the play 
for publication. 

2. The High and Mightie Commendation of the ver- 
tue of a Pot of Good Ale. Full of wit without offence, 
of mirth without obscenitie, of pleasure without scur- 
rilitie, and of good content without distaste. 

Whereunto is added the valiant battell fought be- 
tweene the Norfolk Cock and the Wisbich Cock, 
written by Thomas Randall. London, printed for F. 
Cowles, T. Bates, and J. Wright. MDCXLIL 

The former of these two poems is undoubtedly the 
"ballad called, A proper newe ballad which without any 
Jayle will shewe all the hurte in a pott of good ale l^." 
which Lyman Stafford registered with the Stationers' 
Company on May 27, 161 2, That it was known before 
it appeared here is shown by the fact that John Taylor 
gives a prose paraphrase of it in 1637 {Drinke and Wel- 
come). It appeared many times in varying forms 
throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 
Hazlitt included it in his edition of Randolph, but later 
doubted its authenticity. 

The second poem, here credited to Randolph, 
appeared later under the name of Robert Wild, to 



42 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

whom it is also credited in the Compleat Gamster of 
Charles Cotton(?) and in Tom D'Urfey's Pills to Purge 
Melancholy. J. Hunt in his edition of Wild gives it to 
him without question. According to Hazlitt, a MS. 
in the Huth collection gives the date of the battle as 
June 17, 1637, which is after Randolph's death but while 
Wild was still at Cambridge. 

3. UXovTocpdaXfjiia UXovroyafjLia. A pleasant comedie 
Entituled Hey for Honesty, down with Knavery. 
Translated out of Aristophanes his Plutus, by Tho: 
Randolph. Augmented and Published by F.J. Dives 
fabula sum satis superque: At Pauper satis y super 
Poeta. London, printed in the Year 1651. 

This is full of allusions to events which happened 
after Randolph's death, but the general scheme of the 
play and certain individual passages are much in his 
style. I see no reason to doubt that it is what it 
purports to be: an incomplete play of Randolph's, fin- 
ished after his death by some person not now known. 

4. On June 29, 1660, "The Prodigall Scholar, a 
Comedy by Tho: Randall" was registered with the 
Stationers' Company by Humphrey Moseley, but 
nothing further is known of it. 

3. Volumes in which poems by Randolph made their 
first appearance 

1. Epithalamium Illustriss. & Feliciss. Principum 
Caroli regis et H. Mariae reginae Magnae Britanniae. 
&c. A Musis Cantabrigiensibus decantatum. Excu- 
debat Cantrellvs Legge, Almae Matris Cantabrigiae 
Typographua MDCXXV. 

2. Memoriae Honoratissimi Domini Francisci, Bare- 



INTRODUCTION 43 

nis de Verulamio, Vice-Comitis Sancti Albani, sacrum. 
Londini in Officina Johannis Haviland. 1626. 

3. Epigrammatwn Opvsccvlvm Dvobvs Libellis Dis- 
tinctvm. [etc.] Authore Huntingdono Plumptre in 
Artibus magistro Cantab. Londini Typis Tho. Harper, 
imprensis Roberti Allot. An. Dom. 1629. 

4. Genethliacum Illustrissimorum Principum Caroli 
& Mariae a Musis Cantabrigiensibus Celebratum. 
Excusum Cantabrigiae 163 1. 

5. Rex Redux, Sive Musa Cantabrigiensis voti dam- 
nas De incolumitate & felici reditu Regis Caroli post 
receptam Coronam, Comitiaq; peracta in Scotia. Ex 
Academiae Cantabrigiensis Typographeo, Ann. Dom. 
MDCXXXIII. 

6. Parentalia Spectatissimo Rolando Cottono Equiti 
Aurato Salopiensi Memoriae & Pietatis ergo. Londini 
Excudebat A. M. 1635. 

7. Annalia Dvbrensia. Vpon the yeerely celebra- 
tion of M'^. Robert Dovers Olimpick Games vpon 
Cotswold-Hills Written by [^Drayton, Randolph, Ben 
Jonson, Owen Feltham, Shackerley Marmion, Thomas 
Heywood, and twenty-seven other less well known per- 
sons.3 London, Printed by Robert Raworth for 
Mathewe Walbancke 1636. 

8. The GratefvU Servant. A Comedie. As it was 
lately presented with good applause in the private 
House in Drury-Lane. By her Majesties Servants. 
Written by James Shirley Gent. — Usque ego postera 
Crescam laude recens. London: Printed by L Okes 
for William Leake, and are to be sold at his shop in 
Chancery-lane neere the Roules. 1637. 

This is the second edition of this play; the first 
did not contain the poem by Randolph. >^ 



44 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

9. A Crew of Kind London Gossips All met to be 
Merry Cetc] To Which is Added Ingenious Poems or 
wit and drollery. Written and newly enlarged by S.R. 
[^Samuel Rowlands] 1663. 

4. Alterations of works by Randolph 

1. The Fickle Shepherdess; as it is acted in the 
New Theater in Lincolns-Inn Fields By Her Majesties 
Servants. Play'd all by Women. London [no author's 
name] 1703. 

An adaptation of the Amyntas. See p. 33. 

2. The Mirrour A Comedy in Three Acts with the 
Author's Life and an Account of the Alterations. 
London, [etc.] MDCCLVI 

This is an adaptation of the Muses Looking-Glass; 
the author was H. Dell. A second edition appeared in 
the next year. 

5. Chief sources for the life of Randolph 

Aubrey, John, "Brief Lives," chiefly of Contemporaries. 
Edited from the author's MSS. by Andrew Clark. 
Oxford, 1898. 

Baker, David Erskine, Biographia dramatica; or a com- 
panion to the playhouse. Enlarged by Isaac Reed 
and Stephen Jones. London, 1812. 

Baker, George, The history and antiquities of the 
county of Northampton. London, 1822-41. 

Bridges, John, History and Antiquities of Northamp- 
tonshire. Edited from the author's MSS. by the 
Rev. Peter Whalley. Oxford, 1791. 

Chetwood, William Rufus, The British Theater. Con- 



INTRODUCTION 45 

taining the lives of the English Dramatic Poets. 
Dublin, 1750. 

Jacob, Giles, The poetical register; or, the Lives and 
characters of the English Poets. London, 1723. 

Langbaine, Gerard, An account of the English dramatic 
poets. Oxford, 1691. 

. The lives and characters of the English 

dramatic poets. London, 1699. 

Mawe, Leonard, Letter to Lord Holland. 1629. Pre- 
served in the British Record Office. 

Motley, John, A compleat list of all the English Dra- 
matic Poets. Published in the volume with 
Scanderbeg by Thomas Whincop. London, 1747. 

Visitation of Northamptonshire made in the years 1682- 
86. Not Printed. There is a copy in the New 
York Public Library. 

Winstanley, William, The lives of the most famous 
English poets. London, 1687. 

Wood, Anthony a, Athenae Oxonienses ... to which 
is added the Fasti. Edited by Philip Bliss. Lon- 
don, 1813-20. 



TO THE MEMORY OF 

HIS DEARE BROTHER 

M"^ Tho. Randolph. 

IN such a solemne traine of freinds that sing 
Thy Dirge in pious lines, and sadly bring 
Religious Anthemes to attend thy Hearse, 
Striving t'embalme thy precious name in verse: 
I, that should most, have no more power to raise 
Trophies to thee, or bring one graine of praise 
To crowne thy Altar, then the Orbes dispence 
Motion without their sole Intelligence. 
For I confesse that power which workes in mee 
Is but a weake resultance tooke from thee; 
And if some scatter'd seeds of heate divine 
Flame in my brest, they are deriv'd from thine: 
And these low sickly numbers must be such. 
As when steel moves, the Loadstone gives the touch. 
So like a spungy cloud that sucks up raine 
From the fat soile to send it back againe; 
There may be now from me some language showne 
To urge thy merit, but 'twas first thy owne: 
For though the Doners influence be past 
For new eflfects, the old impressions last. 
As in a bleeding trunk we oft descry 
Leaps in the head, and rowlings in the eye, 
By vertue of some spirits, that alone 
Doe tune those Organs though the soule be gone. 
But since I adde unto this generall noise 
Only weake sounds, and Echoes of thy voice; 
Be this a taske for deeper mouthes, while I 
That cannot bribe the Phansy, thaw the eye: 
And on that Grave where they advance thy praise 
Doe plant a sprigge of Cypresse not of Bayes. 

47 



48 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Yet flow these teares not that thy Reliques sit 
Fix'd to their cell a constant Anchorit: 
Nor am I stirr'd that thy pale ashes have 
O're the darke Climate of a private Grave 
No faire inscription: such distempers flow 
From poore lay-thoughts, whose blindnesse cannot know 
That to discerning Spirits the Grave can be 
But a large wombe to Immortality: 
And a faire vertuous name can stand alone 
Brasse to the Tombe, and marble to the Stone. 

No, 'tis that Ghostly progeny we mourne, 
Which carelesse you let fall into the Vrne: 
We had not flow'd with such a lavish tide 
Of teares and greife, had not those Orphans dy'd. 
For what had been my losse, who reading thine, 
A Brother might haue kiss'd in every line. 

These that are left, Posterity must have; 
Whom a strict care hath rescu'd from the Grave 
To gather strength by Vnion; as the beames 
Of the bright Sunne shot forth in severall streames, 
And thinly scatter'd with lesse fervour passe, 
Which cause a flame contracted in a Glasse. 
These, if they cannot much advance thy fame. 
May stand dumbe Statues to preserve thy name: 
And like Sun-dialls to a day that's gone. 
Though poore in use, can tell there was a Sunne. 

Yet (if a faire confession plant no Bayes, 
Nor modest truth conceiv'd a lavish praise) 
I could to thy great glory tell this age 
Not one invenom'd line doth swell the page 
With guilty legends; but so cleare from all 
That shoot malicious noise, and vomit gall. 
That 'tis observ'd in every leafe of thine. 
Thou hast not scatter'd snakes in any line. 
Here are no remnants tortur'd into rime 
To gull the reeling judgments of the time; 
Nor any stale reversions patch thy writ 
Gleand from the ragges and frippery of wit. 
Each syllable doth here as truly runne 
Thine, as the light is proper to the Sunne. 
Nay in those feebler lines which thy last breath 
And labouring brains snatch'd from the skirts of death 
Though not so strongly pure, we may descry 
The father in his last posterity, 



INTRODUCTORY POEMS 49 

As clearly showne, as Virgins looks doe passe 

Through a thinne lawne, or shaddowes in a glasse: 

And in thy setting, as the Suns, confesse. 

The same large brightnesse, though the heate be lesse. 

Such native sweetnesse flowes in every line, 

The Reader cannot choose but sweare 'tis thine. 

Though I can tell a rugged sect there is 
Of some fly-wits will judge a squint on this; 
And from thy easy flux of language guesse 
The fancies weake, because the noise is lesse; 
As if that Channell which doth smoothly glide 
With even streames flow'd with a shallow tide. 
But let a quick-discerning judgment looke. 
And with a peircing eye untwist thy book 
In every loome, I know the second veiw 
Shall finde more lustre then the first could doe. 
For have you scene when gazing on the skies 
With strict survey a new succession rise 
Of severall starres, which doe not so appeare 
To every formall glance that shootes up there: 
So when the serious eye has firmly been 
Fix'd on the page, such large increase is seen 
Of various fancy, that each severall veiw 
Makes the same fruitful! book a Mart of new. 

But I forbeare this mention; since I must 
Ransack thy ashes, and revile thy dust 
With such low characters, I mean to raise 
Thee to my contemplation, not my praise: 
And they that wish thy Picture clearly showne 
In a true Glasse, I wish would use thy owne: 
Where I presume how e're thy vertues come 
111 shap'd abroad, th'art fairly drest at home. 

Ro. Randolph. M. A. Student of C. Church. 



Lectori nimium crltico qui Authoris Fescenni- 
nos sales plus justo rigidus interpretatur. 

D Extra quid Archetypes nudas mysteria charter? 
Privatique aperis limina clausa joci? 
Non lucem patitur sed coelebs margo venenum, 
Et videt ingenuis toxica mista jocis. 



50 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Sluceque slolata dedit sanctus Floralia vates, 

Exuis, y nudos das sine teste sales. 
Hinc tola immerilam jugulat censura papyrum, 

Et levis ingenuos damnat arundo sates. 
Carnifices calamos y rauca jurgia Musa 

Simplicitas casti sentit honesta libri. 
S}uid culpa fuerit si vatis amabile carmen 

Lascivam casto schemate lusit anum? 
Lintea si nudis iniecit pulchra pudendis? 

Vel tegit incastam larva modesta Deam? 
Nulla tuis regnant nisi notnina mascula chartis, 

Si quod foemineum est culpa legentis erit; 
(Ft proles, uteri prima qui claustra reliquit, 

Mascula, foemineum vidimus arte Sporum.) 
Das thalami lusus corlincv at tegmine sanctos, 

Cynthia quos lectos gestiat esse suos. 
Dii bene, quam Sanctis loquitur Venus impia verbis? 

Tyndaris Iff raptus hie stupet esse pios. 
Lecta puella tuis dum spectat crimina chartis. 

Visa sibi est furto sanctior ire sua. 
I nunc ingenucc parcas lex lulia chartce, 

Scripta librum dederat, lecta lupanar erat. 

Ro. Randolph, ex ^de Christi. 



BLest Spirit, when I first did see 
The Genius of thy Poetrie, 

Nimble and fluent; in a straine 

Even with, if not beyond the braine 

Of Laureats that crown'd the stage, 

And liv'd the wonders of the aj^e: 

And this but sparkles from a fire 

That flam'd up, and soar'd much higher; 

I gaz'd desierous to see 

Whither thy wit would carry thee. 
Thy first rise was so high, that even 
As needs it must, the next was heaven. 

I. T. A. M. 



INTRODUCTORY POEMS 5 1 



In Authorem 

CAnescant alii, sterilique eetatis honore 
Latentur; fecit te tua Musa senem. 
Parcarum labor est vitce mensura peractcB: 
TexuntuT propria stamina vestra manu; 
Felix qui primo excedis, Randolphe, sub avo, 

Nee Genii extincti prcevia fata vides; 

Dii bene non dederint effoetae frigora vita: 

Debes quo fueras natus in igne mori. 

Tho. T e r r e n t, M. a. ex 
^de Christi: 



Fpon M^ Randolph's Poems, collected and 
published after his Death. 

AS when a swelling Cloud melted to showres, 
Sweetly diffuses fresh and active powers 
Into the shrunke and thirstie veines of earth; 
Blessing her barren wombe with a new birth 
Of graine and fruit: and so redeemes a land 
Of desperate people from th' destroying hand 
Of merc'lesse Plague, Famine, or Dearth; and then 
Collects it's streames unto the Ocean: 

So thy diffusive soule, and fluent parts, 
(Great miracle of naturall wit and Arts,) 
Rapt up some Regions 'bove our Spheare, did flow 
And showre their blessings downe on us below: 
Whilst we, dull earth, in extasies did sit. 
Almost o'rewhelmed with thy Flouds of Wit. 
What bloud of verse is pump't from our dry Braines, 
Sprung like a rushing Torrent from thy Veines. 
When a long Drought presag'd some fatall Dearth, 
Thy unexhausted Founts gave us new byrth 
Of Wit and verse: when Cham, or Isis fell, 
Thy open'd Floudgatcs made their Riv'lets swell 
'Bove their proud Banks: Where planted by thy hand 
Th' Hesperian Orchards, Paphian Myrtles stand, 
And those sweet Shades, where Lovers tell their blisses 
To' th' whisp'ring leaves, and summe 'em up in kisses. 



52 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

There in full Quire the Muses us'd to sing 
Melodious Odes, bathing in Cham, their Spring: 
And all the Graces, Tom, dwelt with thee too. 
Crowning thy Front for old Citherons Brow. 

Nor were we rich alone; Climes farre from hence 
Acknowledge yet thy soveraigne influence: 
Sicilians owe to thee their fruitful! Vale, 
And Cotswold Hill thy Dewes created Dale. 
All Lands and Soyles from hence were fruitful! growne, 
And multipli'd the measures thou hadst sowne. 
Green-sword-untilled milk-maids wish no blisses 
Beyond a stammel Petticoat, and kisses, 
And thy sweet Dowry] This alone, they cry, 
Will make our Beasts and Milk to multiply. 
And the dull Fallow Clownes, who never thought 
Of God or Heaven but in a floud or drought. 
Doe gape and pray for Crops of Wit, and vow 
To make their Lads and Wenches Poets now. 
For they can make their fields to laugh and sing 
To th' Muses Pipe, and Winter rhime to spring. 
They pray for the first curse; like Schollers now. 
To earne their livings by their sweaty Brow. 
Then the fine Gardens of the Court, are set 
With Flowers sprung from thy Muses Coronet. 
Those pretty Imps in Plush, that on trust goe 
For their fine clothes, and their fine Judgments too, 
The Frontispice or Titlepage of Playes, 
Whose whole discourse is — As the Poet sayes. 
That Tavernes draine, (for Ivy is the signe 
Of all such sack-shop wits, as well as wine.) 
And make their verses dance on either hand 
With numerous feet, whilst they want feet to stand. 
That score up jests for every glasse or cup. 
And th' totall summe behind the Doore cast up; 
These had beene all dry'd up, and many more. 
That quaffe up Helicon upon thy score. 
The sneaking Tribe, that drinke and write by fits, 
As they can steale or borrow coine or wits. 
That Pandars fee for Plots, and then belie 
The paper with — An excellent Comedie, 
Acted (more was the pitty,) by th' Red Bull 
With great applause, of some vaine City Gull; 
That damne Philosophy, and prove the curse 
Of emptinesse, both in the Braine and Purse; 



INTRODUCTORY POEMS S3 

These that scrape legges and trenchers to my Lord, 

Had starv'd but for some scraps pickt from thy Bord. 

They'had try'd the Balladiers or Fidlers trade, 

Or a New Comedie at Tiburne made. 

Thus, Tom thy pregnant Phancy crown'd us all 

With wealthy showers, or Mines Poeticall. 

Nor did thy dews distill in a cold raine, 

But with a flash of Lightning op't thy Braine, 

Which thaw'd our stupid spirits with lively heat, 

And from our frosts forc'd a Poeticke sweat. 

And now. Wit's Common-wealth by thee repriv'd, 
(For its consumption shewes it not long liv'd,) 
Thy farre dispersed Streames divert their course, 
(Though some are damned up) to th' Muses Sourse, 
This Ocean: — He that will fadome it, 
By's Lines shall sound an Ocean of wit; 
Not shallow, low, and troubled, but profound. 
And vast, though in these narrow limits Bound. 
The tribute of our eyes or pens, all we can pay, 
Are some poore drops to thy Pactolus Sea, 
And first stolne thence, though now so muddy growne 
With our fowle channels, they scarce seeme thy owne. 
Thus have I seene a peice of Coine, which bore 
The Image of my King or Prince before. 
New cast into some Peasant, loose its grace; 
Yet's the same body with a fowler face. 
If our owne store must pay; that Gold which was 
Lent us in sterling we must turne in brasse. 
Hadst thou writ lesse or worse, then we might lay 
Something upon thy Vrne thou didst not say: 
But thou hadst Phansies vast Monopolie, 
Our stocke will scarce amount t'an Elegie! 
Yet all the Legacies thy Fatall day 
Bequeath'd, thy sad Executour will pay. 

To late Divines (by Will and Testament) 
A Paraphrase on each Commandement, 
In Morall Precepts; with a Disputation 
Ending the Quarrells 'bout Predestination. 
To those that study how to spend the Day, 
And yet grow wise — The Ethicks in a Play. 
To Poets, 'cause there is no greater curse, 
Thou bequeathdst — Nothing, in thy empty Purse. 
To City-Madams, that bespeak new faces 
For every Play or Feast, Thy Looking-glasses. 



54 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And to their cliamber-maids, who only can 
Adorne their Ladies head, and dreame on man, 
Th'ast left a Dowry; They till now, by stealth 
Writ only members of the Common-wealth. 
To Heaven thy Ravish't Soule, (though who shall look 
Will say it lives in each line of thy Book.) 
Thy Dust, unnaturall Reliques that could die, 
To Earth; Thy Fame unto Eternitie. 
A Husband to thy Widdow'd Poetrie, 
Not from the Court but Vniversitie. 
To thy sad Aunt, and now despairing mother, 
Thy litle Orphans, and thy younger Brother; 
From all of which this free Confessions fit. 
The younger sister had the elder Wit. 



Ad Authorem. 

MOllia quod tenui currunt viihi carmina filo, 
Et mens in gyro stet breviore labor, 
Dum tua constrictis assurgit Musa Cothurnis, 

Et Veneres casto vincit Avena loco, 
Cedimus inculti! Fato far Gloria nostra 
^uod Tua mirentur Carmina, Nostra legant. 

R. Bride-oake. A.m. No. Coll. 



WHat need thy book crave any other fame, 
It is enough that it beares Randolphs name. 
Who sees the title, and him understood. 
Must much condemne himselfe, or say tis good. 
Goe forth example to the Neophyte, 
Who hence should learne to Catechize his wit. 
And dresse his Phancy by this glasse: whose Muse 
Welfavour'd is, should here her face peruse. 
It will not flatter, 'twill reflect the grace 
She takes from th' owner of a beuteous face: 
But if a menstruous, and illiterate eye 
Blast her, the various specks shall soone descry 
The foule beholder, and proclaime her spoile 
Not to result from thence, but his owne soyle. 

Ed. G a y t o n. M. a. loan. 



INTRODUCTORr POEMS 55 

IMmortall B e n is dead; and as that ball 
On Ida toss'd, so is his Crowne by all 
The Infantry of wit. Vaine Priests! That chaire 
Is only fit for his true Sonne and Heire. 
Reach here the Lawrell: Randolph, 'tis thy praise: 
Thy naked Scull shall well become the Bayes. 

See, Daphne courts thy Ghost: and spite of fate^ 
Thy Poems shall be Poet Laureat. 

G. W. Joan. 



To his worthy friend M"" Robert Randolph 

of Ch. Ch. on the publishing of his 
Brothers Poems. 

WE thank, you worthy sir, that tis our hap 
To praise even Randolph now without a clap^ 
And give our suffrage yet, though not our voice. 
To shew the odds betwixt his fame and noyse: 
Whose only modesty we could applaud, 
That seldome durst presume to blush abroad; 
And bear his vast Report, and setting forth 
His vertues, grow a suff'rer of his worth. 
Was scarce his own acquaintance, and did use 
To hear himselfe reported but as newes. 
So distant from himselfe, that one might dare 
To say those two were nere familiar: 
Whose pollisht Phancy hath so smoothly wrought. 
That 'tis suspected, and might tempt our thought 
To guesse it spent in every birth, so writ 
Not as the guift but Legacy of his wit: 
Whose unbid braine drops so much flowing worth. 
That others are deliver'd, he brought forth; 
That did not course in wit, and beat at least 
Ten lines in fallow to put up one lest; 
Which still prevents our thought, we need not stay 
To th'end, the Epigram is in the way. 
The Towne might here grow Poet, nay tis se'd 
Some May'ors could hence as eas'ly rime as read; 
Whose losse we so much weepe, we cannot heare 
His very Comedy's without a teare; 
And when we read his mirth, are faine to pray 
Leave from our griefe to call the worke a play: 



56 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Where fancy plaies with judgement, and so fits 

That 'tis enough to make a guard of wits; 

Where lines fulfill themselues, and are so right 

That but a combats mention is a fight. 

His phrase does bring to passe, and hee has lent 

Language enough to give the Things Event; 

The lines pronounce themselves, and we may say 

The Actors were but Echoes of the Play: 

Me thinkes the book does act, and we not doubt 

To say it rather Enters then Comes out; 

Which even you seeme to envy, whose device 

Has made it viler even by its price. 

And taught its value, which we count so great 

That when we buy it cheapest we but cheat; 

And when upon one Page we blesse our look, 

How-ere we bargaine we have gain'd the book; 

Fresh-men in this are forc't to have their right. 

And 'tis no purchase though 'twere sold in spight; 

So doe we owe you still, that let us know 

He gave the world the Playes, and you the Show. 

los. Howe. Trin. Coll. OxoN. 

On his beloved friend the Author, 
and his ingenious Poems. 

'\T'\T Wzt need these busy wits? who hath a Mine 
V V His owne, thus rich, needs not the scatter'd shine 

Of lesser heapes: Day dimmes a taper's light: 

And Lamps are uselesse, where there is no night. 
Why then this traine of writers? forreigne verse 

Can adde no honour to a Poet's hearse. 

Whose every line, which he to paper lent, 

Builds for himselfe a lasting Monument. 

Brave verse this priviledge hath; Though all be dumbe, 

That is the Authors Epitaph and Tombe. 

Which when ambitious Pyles, th' ostents of Pride, 

To dust shall fall, and in their ruins hide 

Their then no more remembred Founders Name: 

These (like Apollo ever young) shall fame 

The first composer; whose weigh'd workes shall tell 

What Noble thoughts did in his Bosome dwell. 



INTRODUCTORr POEMS 57 

But now I find the cause: they that doe praise 
Desert in others, for themselves plant Baies: 
For he that praises merit, loves it: thus 
Hee's good, for goodnesse that's solicitous. 
Else, though Hee diamonds keenly pointed write. 
They but proclaime a quainter Hypocrite: 
Thus in the future, it shall honour bee. 
That men shall read their names bound up with thee. 
So country Moles, that would at Court appeare, 
Intrude some Camels traine that does live there. 
So Creatures that had drown'd else, did imbarke 
With Noah, and liv'd by being in his Arke. 

Or if not thus; as when in Royall state 
Nobles attend Kings to inaugurate: 
Or as last yeare when you both courts did see 
Beget joyes noone in th'Vniversity; 
All the learn'd tribe in reverend Habits meet, 
As if the Schooles were turn'd into the street; 
Where each one strove such duty to put on, 
As might give honour to their own Sunnes Sunne. 
Such honour here our dimmer pennes would have. 
In pompe to wait him to his solemne grave: 
Since what he was, his own fruits better show, 
Then those which planted here by others, grow. 
Rich jewels in themselves such lustre cast, 
As gold about them, is no grace, but Wast. 

Such was his Genius: Like the eyes quick wink; 
Hee could write sooner, then another think. 
His play was Fancies flame, a lightning wit, 
So shot, that it could sooner pierce, then hit. 
What e're he pleas'd, though but in sport to prove, 
Appear'd as true, as pitty dwells with love. 
Had he said thus. That discreet zeale might stan 
Both with the lesuit, and the Puritan, 
T'had been believ'd; that frost from heat proceeds. 
That chastity from ease, and fulnesse breeds; 
That women ought to wooe, as Eve at first 
Woo'd Man, to make the world, and man accurst. 
All would be taken up for Truth: and sense 
Which knew Truth coming, would not going hence. 

Had he maintain'd Rich Lucans worke had been 
Meere History; there would no pen be seen. 

Line 33. staa]stand '43, ff. 



58 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

To call it Poem. If for Ccesar stood, 
Great Pompey should be neither weak, nor Good. 
Oh! had he liv'd to plead the craggy Law, 
Which now unsetled holds the world in awe. 
He would have met some Ostracisme, I feare. 
Lest he had charm'd the purple ludge to erre. 

Nor could he only in his Native speech 
Robe his ripe thoughts; but even the Copious, Rich, 
And lofty Greek, with Latine, did appeare 
In him, as Orient in their proper sphere: 
That when in them, himselfe he pleas'd t'expresse; 
The ravisht hearer, could not but confesse. 
He might as well old Rome, or Athens claime 
For birth, as Britaine, circled with the Maine. 
*Tis true, we have these languages still left; 
But spoken, as apparrell got by theft 
Is worne: disguis'd, and shadowed. Had hee 
Liv'd but with us, till grave maturity; 
Though wee should ever in his change have lost, 
Wee might have gaind enough whereof to boast 
Our nations better Genius; but now 
Or hopes are nipt, e're they began to blow. 
And sure I am, his losse must needs strike deep, 
For whom in verse, thus Englands Eye doth weepe. 
Whose teares thus dew'd upon his mournefull dust 
I will not longer trouble. They that must 
Carp though at better things; let them only read; 
These Poems here will strike that humour dead. 
Which I should praise too: but in them I see 
There is one blemish; for he hath nam'd mee. 
Else, rie not think the Reader so distrest 
In wit: but that he will admire the rest. 
Concluding thence, though in his forenoon-youth, 
(And what I now shall write is modest truth,) 
He knowes not him, who doth so much excell, 
That could so quickly, doe so much, so well. 

Owen Felth a'm^ Gent. 



INTRODUCTORY POEMS 59 



On the death of M^ Randolph. 

^ 7^^ T^Hen Donne, and Beaumont dyed, an Epitaph 

V V Some men (I well remember) thought unsafe; 
And said they did presume to write, unlesse 
They could their teares in their expression dresse. 
But love makes me more bold, and telles me I 
In humble termes to vent my piety 
May safely dare; and reason thinks not fit, 
For which I lov'd, I now should feare that wit. 
Respect lookes like a bargaine, if confinde 
To rules precise; and is more just then kinde, 
If by a poiz'd and equall testament 
It turnes good-will, into a covenant; 
Must every present offer'd to a Prince 
Be just proportion'd to his eminence? 
Or ought my Elegy unjust be thought 
Because I cannot mourne thee as I ought? 
Such lawes as these, (if any be so bold) 
Ought those unskilfull but proud soules to hold, 
Who think they could and did, at a due rate 
Love thee; not mee, whose love was passionate, 
And hath decreed, how ere the censure goe. 
Thus much, although but thus, to let men know. 
I doe admire no Comet did presage 
The mournfull period of thy wonder'd age; 
Or that no Sybill did thy death fore tell. 
Since that by it alone more ill befell 
The Laurell-God, then when the day was come 
Wherein his Delphick-Oracle was dumbe: 
In meaner wits that proverbe chance may hold 
(That they which are soon ripe are seldome old) 
But 'twas a poore one, and for thee unfit, 
Whose infancy might teach their best years wit; 
Whose talk was exemplary to their pains. 
And whose discourse was tutor to their streines; 
If thou wert serious, then the audience 
Heard Platoe's works in Tullies eloquence: 
If sad, the mourners knew no thrifty size 
In teares, but still cri'd out, oh lend more eyes. 
If merry, then the juyce of Comedy 
Soe sweetned every word, that we might see 



6o THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Each stander by having enough to doe 

To temper mirth, untill some friend could wooe 

Thee take the pains to write, that so that pressure 

Checking thy soules quick motions, some small leasure 

Might be obtain'd to make provision 

Of breath, against the next Scen's action. 

I could goe through thy works, which will survive 

The funerall of time; and gladly strive 

Beyond my power, to make that love appeare 

Which after death is best seen in a teare; 

But praising one, I should dispraise the rest, 

Since whatsoere thou didst, was still the best: 

Since then I am perswaded that in thee 

Wit at her acmie was, and wee shall see 

Posterity not daring to aspire 

To equalize, but only to admire 

Thee as their archetype; with thought of thee 

Henceforth I'le thus enrich my memory. 

While others count from Earth-quakes, and great frost; 

And say i'th' last deare yeare, 'twould thus much cost. 

My time-distinctions this shall be among. 

Since wits-decay, or Randolph's death, — so long. 

R. GosTELow. Mr. A. Oxon. 



To the pious Memory of my deare Brother 
in-Law M^ Thomas Randolph. 

REaders, prepare your Fayth; who truly tells 
His History, must needs write miracles. 
Hee lisp'd Wit worthy th'Presse, as if that hee 
Had us'd his Cradle as a Librarie. 
Some of these Fruits had birth, when other Boyes 
(His Elders) play'd with Nuts; Books were his Toyes. 
Hee had not long of Playes Spectatour beene 
But his small Feete wore Socks fit for the Scene. 
Hee was not like those costive Wits, who blot 
A quire of paper to contrive a plot. 
And e're they name it, crosse it, till it look 
Rased with wounds like an old Mercers Book. 
What pleas'd this yeare, is next in peices torne, 
It suffers many deaths e're it be borne. 



INTRODUCTORr POEMS 6l 

For Humours to lye leidger they are scene 
Oft in a Taverne, and a Bowling-greene. 
They doe observe each place, and company, 
As strictly as a Traveller or Spie. 
And deifying dunghills, seeme t'adore 
The scumme of people, Watchman, Changling, Whore. 
To know the vice, and ignorance of all. 
With any Ragges they'le drink a pot of Ale; 
Nay, what is more (a strange unusuall thing 
With Poets) they will pay the reckoning; 
And sit with patience an houre by th' Heeles 
To learne the Non-sence of the Constables. 
Such lig-like flim-flams being got to make 
The Rabble laugh, and nut-cracking forsake, 
They goe Home (if th' have any) and there sit 
In Gowne and Night-cap looking for some wit. 
E're they compose, they must for a long space 
Be dieted, as Horses for the race. 
They must not Bacon, Beefe, or Pudding eate, 
A jest may chance be starv'd with such grosse meate. 
The Good Houre come, and their Braine tun'd, they write. 
But slow as dying men their Wills indite. 
They pen by drams and scruples, from their quill 
Words (although dreggy) flow not, but distill. 
They stare, and sowre their faces; nay to vent 
The Braines they eate their fingers excrement: 
And scratch their Heads, as if they were about 
(Their wit so hide-bound is) to pull it out. 
Ev'ry bald s'peech though Comicall it bee 
To their rack'd members proves a Tragccdie. 
When they have had the Counsell of some freind. 
And of their begging Epilogtie made an end. 
Their Play salutes the world, and claimes the Stage 
For its inheritance, being now of Age. 

But while they pump't their Phansy day and night; 
Hee nothing harder found then not to write. 
No dyet could corrupt, or mend his straine; 
All tempers were the best to his sure Braine. 
He could with raptures captivate the King, 
Yet not endanger Button, or Bandstring. 
Poems from him gush'd out so readily 
As if they'd only been in's Memory; 
Yet are they with as marble fancies wrought, 
As theirs whose pen waits for the thirteenth thought. 



62 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

They crre who say things quickly done scone fade; 
Nature and Hee all in an Instant made. 
Those that doe measure Fansies by the glasse, 
And dote on such as cost more time, may passe 
In rank with Gulls, whom folly doth entice 
To thinke that best which has the greatest price. 
Who poreing on, their Spungy Braine still squeeze, 
Neglect the creame, and only save the Lees. 
Stopping their flying quill, they clip Fames wing, 
Make Helicon a puddle that's a Spring. 

Nor was his Hast hoodwinkt; his Rage was wise. 
His Fury counsell had, his rashnesse eyes. 
Though hee (as Engines arrowes) shot forth wit, 
Yet aim'd with all the proper marks to hit. 
His Inke ne're stain'd the Surplice; he doth right 
That sometimes takes a care to misse the White. 
Hee turn'd no Scripture phrase into a jest; 
Hee was inspir'd with raptures, not possest. 

Some Divelish Poets think their Muse does ill 
Vnlesse their verses doe prophane or kill. 
They boldly write what I should feare to thinke. 
Words that doe pale their paper, black their Inke. 
The Titles of their Satyrs fright some, more 
Then Lord have mercy writ upon a doore. 

Although his wit was sharp as others, yet 
It never wounded; thus a Razer set 
In a wise Barbers hand tickles the skin, 
And leaves a smooth not carbonaded chin. 
So soveraigne was his Phansy, that you'd think 
His quickning pen did Balsam drop not Inke. 
Read's Elegies and you will see his praise 
Doth many soules 'fore th' Resurrection raise. 
No venom's in his Book; his very Snake 
You may as safely as a Flower take. 
There's none needs feare to surfet with his phrase, 
He has no Gyant raptures to amaze 
And torture weake capacities with wonder: 
He (by his Laurell guarded) nere did thunder 
As those strong bumbast Wits, whose Poetrie 
Sounds like a Charme, or Spanish Pedigree. 
Who with their Phancy towring 'bove the Sun, 
Have in their stile Babells confusion. 
If puny eyes doe read their verses, they 
Will think 'tis Hebrew writ the English way. 



INTRODUCTORT POEMS 63 

His Lines doe runne smooth as the feet of time; 
Each leafe though rich, swells not with gouty rime. 
Here is no thrum, or knot; Arachne ne're 
Weav'd a more even webb; and as they are 
Listed for smoothnesse, so in this againe 
That each Thread's spun, and warp'd by his own braine. 

We have some Poetasters, who although 
They ne're beyond the writing-Schoole did goe, 
Sit at Apollo's Table, when as they 
But midwives are, not Parents to a Play. 
Were they betray'd, they'd be each Coblers scoffe, 
Laugh t at, as one whose Periwig's blowne off. 
Their Braines lye all in Notes; Lord! how they'd looke 
If they should chance to loose their Table-book! 
Their Bayes, like Ivy, cannot mount at all 
But by some neighbouring tree, or joyning wall. 

With what an extasy shall we behold 
This Book, which is no Ghost of any old 
Wormeaten Authour; heres no jest, or hint, 
But had his Head both for it's Ore an' mint. 
Wer't not for some Translations, none could know 
Whether he had e're look'd in Book or no. 
He could discourse of any subject, yet 
No cold premeditated sence repeat; 
As he that nothing at the Table talkes, 
But what was cook'd in's study or the walkes; 
Whose wit (like a sun-diall) only can 
Goe true in this, or that Meridian. 
Each Climate was to him his proper Spheare; 
You'd think he had been brought up every where. 

Was he at Court? his Complements would be 
Rich wrought with Phansies best embroderie; 
Which the spruse Gallants Echo like would speake 
So oft, as they'd be thread-bare in a weeke. 
They lov'd even his Abuses, the same jeere 
So witty 'twas, would sting and please their eare. 

Read's flowry Pastoralls, and you will sweare 
Hee was not Johnsons only, but Pans Heire. 
His smooth Amyntas would perswade even me 
To think he alwaies liv'd in Sicilie. 
Those happier Groves that shaded him, were all 
As Trees of knowledge, and Propheticall: 
Dodon's were but the type of them; Leaves were 
Books in old time, but became Schollers here. 



64 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Had he liv'd till Westminster Hall was seen 
In Forrest Townes, perhaps he find had been. 
Whilst others made Trees Maypoles, he could doe 
As Orpheus did, and make them Dancers too. 

But these were the light sports of his spare time; 
He was as able to dispute, as rime. 
And all (two gifts ne're joyn'd before) outwent 
As well in Syllogisme as Complement. 
Who looks within his clearer Glasse, will say 
At once he writ an Ethick Tract and Play. 
When he in Cambridge Schooles did moderate, 
(Truth never found a subtler Advocate) 
He had as many Auditours, as those 

Who preach, their mouths being Silenc'd, through the Nose. 
The Grave Divines stood gazing, as if there 
In words was colour, or in th' eye an eare: 
To heare him they would penetrate each other. 
Embrace a Throng, and love a noysome smother. 
Though Plodding Pates much time and oyle had spent 
In beating out an obscure Argument; 
He could untie, not break, the subtlest knot 
Their puzling Art could weave; nay he had got 
The trick on't so, as if that he had been 
Within each Braine, and the nice folding seen. 
Who went to th' Schooles Peripateticks, came. 
If he disputed, home in Plato's name. 
His Oppositions were as Text; some le'd 
With wonder, thought he had not urgd but read. 

Nor was his ludgment all Philosophy: 
He was in points of deepe Divinitie 
Only Not Doctor; his true Catho'lique Braine 
The Learning of a Councell did containe. 

But all his Works are lost, his Fire is out; 
These are but's Ashes, which were throwne about 
And now rak'd up together; all wee have 
With pious sacriledge snatch'd from his Grave 
Are a few meteours; which may make it se'd 
That Tom is yet alive, but Randolph's dead. 

Thus when a Merchant posting o're the sea 
With his rich loaden shippe is cast away; 
Some light small Wares doe swim unto the shore, 
But th* great and solid Prizes ne're rise more. 

R 1 c. West. Bac. of Arts, and Student of Chr. Church. 



POEMS 

^ITH THE 

M V S E S 

LOOKINGGLASSE 

AMYNTAS 



By Thomas Randolph Maftcr of Arts 
and late Fellow of Trinity CoIIcdge in 
CAmhidge, 




W 



OXFORD, 

Prinrcdby Lbonard Lichfibio Printer 

tothe Vmverfity.forFnANCi s Bowman 

M. DC. xxxvm. 



ON THE 

INESTIMABLE 

CONTENT HE INIOYES 

IN THE MVSES; TO THOSE 

of his Friends that dehort him 
from Poetry. 

GOE sordid earth, and hope not to bewitch 
My high-borne soule, that flies a nobler pitch! 
Thou canst not tempt her with adulterate show, 
She beares no appetite that flaggs so low. 
Should both the Indies spread their lapps to me, 5 
And court my eyes to wish their Treasurie, 
My better will they neither could entice; 
Nor this with gold, nor that with all her spice. 
For what poore things had these possessions showne. 
When all were mine, but I were not mine owne! 10 
Others in pompous wealth their thoughts may please. 
And I am rich in wishing none of these. 
For say; which happinesse would you beg first, 
Still to have drink, or never to haue thirst? 
No servants on my beck attendant stand, 15 

Yet are my passions all at my command; 
Reason within me shall sole ruler be. 
And every sense shall weare her livery. 

(6) their] my, '40, ff. (7) neither] never '43, ff. (18) her] hit '$1. 

67 



68 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Lord of my selfe in cheife; when they that have 

More wealth, make that their Lord, which is my slaue. 20 

Yet I as well as they, with more content 

Have in my selfe a Houshold government. 

My intellectuall soule hath there possest 

The Stewards place, to governe all the rest. 

When I goe forth my Eyes two Vshers are, 25 

And dutifully walke before me bare. 

My Leggs run Footmen by me. Goe or stand 

My ready Armes waite close on either hand. 

My Lipps are Porters to the dangerous dore: 

And either Eare a trusty Auditor: 30 

And when abroad I goe, Fancy shall be 

My skilfuU Coachman, and shall hurry me 

Through Heaven & Earth, and Neptune's watry plaine, 

And in a moment drive me back againe. 

The charge of all my Cellar, Thirst, is thine; 35 

Thou Butler art and Yeoman of my wine. 

Stomacke the Cooke, whose dishes best delight, 

Because their only sawce is Appetite. 

My other Cooke digestion; where to me 

Teeth carve, and Palat will the taster be. 40 

And the two Eylids, when I goe to sleepe. 

Like carefull groomes my silent chamber keepe. 

Where least a cold oppresse my vitall part, 

A gentle fire is kindled by the Heart. 

And least too great a heat procure my palne, 45 

The Lungs fanne winde to coole those parts againe. 

Within the inner closet of my braine 
Attend the nobler members of my traine. 
Invention Master of my Mint growes there, 
And Memory my faithfuU Treasurer. 50 

(as) two] too '38. (40) crave '52. (48) noble '68. 



POEMS 69 

And though in others 'tis a treacherous part, 

My Tongue is Secretary to my heart. 

And then the pages of my soule and sense, 

Love, Anger, Pleasure, Griefe, Concupiscence, 

And all affections else are taught t' obey 55 

Like subjects, not like favourites to sway. 

This is my Mannor-house, and men shall see 

I here live Maister of my family. 

Say then thou man of worth; in what degree 

May thy proud fortunes over-ballance me.? 60 

Thy many barks plough the rough Oceans backe; 

And I am never frighted with a wracke. 

Thy flocks of sheepe are numberlesse to tell; 

And with one fleece I can be cloth'd as well. 

Thou hast a thousand severall farmes to let; 65 

And I doe feede on ne're a Tenants sweat. 

Thou hast the Commons to Inclosure brought; 

And I have fixt a bound to my vast thought. 

Variety is sought for to delight 

Thy witty and ambitious Appetite; 70 

Three Elements, at least, dispeopled be. 

To satisfie judicious gluttony: 

And yet for this I love my Commons here, 

Above the choicest of thy dainty cheere. 

Noe widdowes curse caters a dish of mine, 75 

I drinke no teares of Orphans in my wine. 

Thou maist perchance to some great office come. 

And I can rule a Common wealth at home. 

And that preheminence injoy more free. 

Then thou puft up with vaine Authority. 80 

What boots it him a large command to have, 

Whose every part is some poore vices slave.? 

(59) man of wealth; '40 ff. (6l) Ocean '68. (82) ?1 1 '3,8. 



70 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Which over him as proudly Lords it there, 
As o're the rusticke he can domineere. 
Whilst he poore swaines doth threat, in his own eyes 85 
Lust and Concupiscence doe Tyrannize, 
Ambition wrackes his heart with jealous feare, 
And bastard flattery captivates his eare. 
He on posterity may fixe his care. 
And I can study on the times that were. 90 

He stands upon a pinacle to show 
His dangerous height, whilst I sit safe below. 
Thy father hords up gold for thee to spend. 
When death will play the office of a friend, 
And take him hence, which yet he thinkes too late: 95 
My nothing to inherit is a fate 
Above thy birth-right, should it double be; 
No longing expectation tortures me. 
I can my fathers reverend head survay, 
And yet not wish that every haire were gray. 100 

My constant Genius sayes I happier stand, 
And richer in his life, then in his land. 
And when thou hast an heyre, that for thy gold 
Will thinke each day makes thee an yeare too old; 
And ever gaping to possesse thy store, 105 

Conceives thy age to be above fourescore 
'Cause his is one and twenty, and will pray 
The too slow houres to hast, and every day 
Bespeake thy Coffin, cursing every bell, 
That he heares tole, 'cause 'tis anothers knell; no 
(And justly at thy life he may repine, 
For his is but a wardship during thine.) 

(88) flatt'ry '68. (104) too] to '38. 

(100) haire] heir '68. (109) Bespeakes '68. 

(104) an] a '43, ff- («I2) For] But '52. 



POEMS 71 

Mine shall have no such thoughts, if I have one 

He shall be more a pupill then a sonne: 

And at my grave weepe truth, and say deaths hand, 115 

That bountifully unto thine gave land, 

But rob'd him of a Tutor; Cursed store! 

There is no piety but amongst the poore. 

Goe then confesse which of us fathers be 

The happier made in our posterity: 120 

I in my Orphane that hath nought beside 

His vertue, thou in thy rich parricide. 

Thou severall Artists doest imploy to show 

The measure of thy lands; that thou maist know 

How much of earth thou hast: while I doe call 125 

My thoughts to scan how little 'tis in all. 

Thou hast thy hounds to hunt the timorous hare, 

The crafty fox, or the more noble deere; 

Till at a fault perchance thy Lordship be, 

And some poore citty varlet hunt for thee. 130 

For 'tis not poore Actaons fault alone; 

Hounds have devour'd more Masters sure then one. 

Whilst I the while persueing my content, 

With the quicke Nostrils of a judgment, sent 

The hidden steps of nature, and there see 135 

Your game maintain'd by her Antipathye. 

Thou hast a Hawke, and to that height doth flye 

Thy understanding, if it soare so high: 

While I my soule with Eagles Pinions wing. 

To stoope at Heaven, and in her Talons bring 140 

A glorious constellation, sporting there 

With him whose belt of starres adornes the spheare. 

Thou hast thy landskips, and the painters try 

With all their skill to please thy wanton eye. 

(143) lants-chipps '40. lants-chips '64. 



72 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Here shadowy groves, and craggy mountaines there; 145 
Here Rivers headlong fall, there springs runne cleare; 
The heavens bright Raies through clouds must azure 

show 
Circled about with Iris gawdy bow. 
And what of this? I reall Heavens doe see, 149 

True springs, true groves; whilst yours but shadows be. 
Nor of your houshhold stuffe so proudly boast, 
Compos'd of curiosity and cost. 
Your two best chambers are unfurnished, 
Th' inner and upper roome, the heart and head. 

But you will say the comfort of a life 155 

Is in the partner of your joyes, a wife. 
You may have choice of brides, you need not wooe 
The rich, the faire; they both are proferd you: 
But what fond virgin will my love preferre, 
That only in Parnassus joynture her? 160 

Yet thy base match I scorne, an honest pride 
I harbour here that scornes a market bride. 
Neglected beauty now is priz'd by gold, 
And sacred love is basely bought and sold. 
Wives are growne traffique, marriage is a trade, 165 
And when a nuptiall of two hearts is made. 
There must of moneyes too a wedding be, 
That coine as well as men may multiplye. 

O humane blindness! had we eyes to see, 
There is no wealth to valiant poetry! 170 

And yet what want I heaven or Earth can yeeld? 
Me thinkes I now possesse th' Elisian field. 



(146) there the springs '68. (i6o) ?] ! '38. 

(147) most azure shrew '52. (l6i) an3 and' 68. 
(154) heart] breast 'S2. (167) too] to '52, ff. 

(156) your] our '38. {172) the Elisian '38. 

(157) brides] birds, '52. 



POEMS 73 

Into my chest the yellow Tagus flowes, 

While my plate fleete in bright Pactolus rowes. 

Th' Hesperian Orchard's mine; mine, mine is all: 175 

Thus am I rich in wealth poeticall. 

Why strive you then my friends to circumvent 

My soule, and rob me of my blest content? 

Why out of ignorant love counsell you me 

To leave the Muses and my poetry? 180 

Which should I leave and never follow more, 

I might perchance get riches and be poore. 

(•7S) Orchard's mine; mine, is all '43, '52, '64. 

Orchard is mine: mine is all '68. 
(180) the] my '68. 



In Anguem, qui Lycorin dormientem 
amplexus est. 

THe spring was come, and all the fields growne 
fine; 
My flame Lycoris like young Proserpine 
Went forth to gather flowers, bettring their sent 
They tooke more sweetnesse from her, then they lent. 
Now loaden with her harvest, and o'repress't 5 

With her sweet toyle, she laid her downe to rest. 
Lyllies did strow her couch, and proud were growne 
To beare a whitnesse purer then their owne. 
Roses fell down soft pillowes to her head. 
And blusht themselves into a deeper red 10 

To emulate her cheekes: Flora did set 
Her maids to worke to weave the Violet 
Into a purple rugge, to shield the faire 
Lycoris from the malice of the Ayre. 

Lycorin] Lycoris in '43, '52, '64. (10) blusht] blush '68. 



74 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

When loe a snake hid in the neighbour bowres, 15 
(Ah who could think treason should lurke in flowers?) 
Shootes forth her checker'd skin, and gently creepes 
Ore my Lycoris, that as gently sleepes. 
I saw it, and a sodaine frost possest 
My frighted soule in my then troubled brest. 20 

What feares appear'd not to my mind and me? 
Thou first wert call'd bemoan'd Euridice, 
By serpents envy forced to expire, 
From Orpheus rapt, and his death conquering lyre. 
But when I found he wore a guiltlesse sting, 25 

And more of love did then of treason bring: 
How quickly could my former feare depart. 
And to a greater leave my iealous heart! 
For the smooth Viper every member scands, 
Africk he loaths now, and the barren sands 30 

That nurst him, wondring at the glorious sight 
Of thighes and belly, and her brests more white 
Then their own milke: Ah might I still (quoth he) 
Crazvle in such fields, 'twixt two such mountaines be! 
There me he spied, and fearing to be seen, 35 

Shrowds to her neck, thinking't had Lyllies been. 
But viewing her bright cheekes, he soone did crye 
Vnder you Roses shall I safer lye. 
Thence did her forehead with full veines appeare. 
Good heaven (quoth he) what violets growe here 40 

On this cleare Promontory? Hence he slides 
Vp to her lockes, and through her tresses glides, 
Her yellow tresses; dazel'd to behold 
A glistering groue, an intire wood of Gold. 

(is) neighbour] neighboring '68. (38) you] yon '43, '64, '68. your '52. 

{16) could] would '68. (41) cleare} clean '68. 

(29) scands] scans '68. 



POEMS 75 

Th' Hesperian wood he thinkes he now hath seene, 45 

That thought, but now, they had an Orchard beene; 

For leaves and boughs the Archimenian vine, 

The Dodon Oak and the Thessalian Pine 

Must yeeld to these, no trees so bright as they. 

Nor Paphian Mirtles, nor Peneian bay! 50 

loy now filld all his brest, no timorous feare 

Of danger could find roome to harbour there. 

Downe slips he and about each limbe he buries 

His wanton body into numerous curies. 

And while his taile had throwne it selfe a chaine 55 

About her necke, his head beares up againe; 

With his black lips her warmer lips he greets, 

And there with kisses steept in Nectar meets. 

Thence Zephyr's breath he suckes, then doth he smell 

Perfumes that all th' Arabian gummes excell. 60 

And spices that doe build the Phcenix Pyre, 

When she renewes her youth in funerall fire. 

Nor seekes he poyson there, but like the Bee 

That on mount Hybla plyes her husbandry. 

He gathers honey thence, now, now I know 65 

With Aristeeus flocks a snake may goe. 

Ah cold at heart, I fear'd some heavenly sleight, 

And love my rival; that his old deceit 

Had once againe this borrowed shape put on 

To court my Nimph, as he Deois wonne. 70 

Up lift the snake his head (for pleasure now 

Held all his soule) and with erected brow 

To flatter's Loue he sung; he strives to play, 

And hisses forth a well tun'd Roundelay. 

This wakes the Nymph; her eyes admit the day; 75 

(45) wood] woods '68. (46) But '38. 

(49) must '38. (70) Deois"] Dedis '43, '52. as he had Dedis '64, '68. 

(64) J . '38. (75) admit] admits '68. 



76 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Here flowers, and there her scatter'd garlands lay, 
Which as shee picks up and with bents retyes, 
Shee in her lap the speckled Serpent spyes. 
The Nymph no signe of any terrour shows, 
(How bold is beauty when her strength shee knows!) 80 
And in her hand the tender worm she grasp'd. 
While it sometimes about her finger clasp'd 
A ring enamel'd, then her tender wast 
In manner of a girdle round inbrac't; 
And now upon her arme a braslet hung 85 

Where for the greater ornament, he flung 
His limber body into severall folds. 
And twenty winding figures, where it holds 
Her amorous pulse, in many a various twist, 
And many a love-knot tyes upon her wrist. 90 

Lycoris to the Gods thou art too deare, 
And too too much of heaven belov'd I feare. 
This or that Nymph's the red-sea spoiles may be. 
But Lyhia ne're sent Jewels but to thee. 
What e're to us are deaths and poysons sent, 95 

Desire to be Lycoris ornament. 
For that same litle spider that hangs up. 
Together with her web on the house top. 
When shee beheld the snake a bracelet made, 
Struck with an envy, and a love; she said, 100 

And shall a snake thy Gemme Lycoris bee. 
And such bright forme receive no tyres from mee? 
Then flings her nets away, and throwing by 
Her subtle toyl shee sets to catch the fly; 
To th* loom Arachne goes, and plyes it there, 105 
To work a robe for my Lycoris weare. 

(8s) arme] om. '52. wast '64. (loi) <Ay] a '52. 

(86) he] she '52. (104) the] a '68. 



POEMS yj 

But thou, 6 Serpent, which so blest canst bee 
To reap those joys for which I envy thee: 
That, happy worm, upon her Up hast hung, 
Sucking in kisses with thy three-fork'd tongue, no 
(So may'st thou age and skin together cast, 
And oft recall thy youth, when it is past.) 
Teach my Lycoris what your Arts may bee, 
Let her th' Ingredients of thy Cordials see. 
That shee may ne're grow old, that times dull plow 
May never print a wrincle in her brow. m6 

I charge thee in the powr'full Cupids name 
May a new beauty alwayes and the same 
Lycoris shew, ne're may shee in her glasse 
Look for her own, and find another face. 120 

Venus for beauty may shee then appear. 
When shee has liv'd to old Sybillas year. 
And when, deare snake, thou wilt no more renew 
Thy youthfull vigour, bid base earth adjew. 
Adde glory to the night, or from his spheare 125 

Huge Python pull and fix thy torches there: 
Where like a river thou shalt bending go. 
And through the Orbe a starry torrent flow. 
And thou Lycoris, when th'art pleas'd to take 
No more of life, next thy beloved Snake 130 

Shine forth a constellation, full, and bright; 
Biesse the poor heavens with more majestick light. 
Who in requitall shall present you there, 
Ariadnes Crown, and Cassiopceas Chayr. 

(109) her] ber '38. hast] fast '43, ff. {120) another] anothers '43, '52, '64. 

(116) in] on '64, '68. (125) Adde] And '43, ff. 

(117) pow'rfuU] powerful '68. 



78 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



A Complaint against Cupid that he never 
made him in Love. 

HOw many of thy Captives (Love) complaine 
Thou yoak'st thy slaves in too severe a chaine? 
r have heard 'em their Poetique maUce shew, 
To curse thy Quiver, and blaspheme thy bow. 
Calling thee boy, and blind; threatning the rod; 5 
Prophanely swearing that thou art no God. 
Or if thou be; not from the starry place; 
But born below, and of the Stygian race. 
But yet these Atheists that thy shafts dislike. 
Thou canst be freindly to, and daigne to strike. 10 
This on his Cloris spends his thoughts and time; 
That chaunts Corinna in his amorous rime. 
A third speaks raptures, and hath gaind a wit 
By praising Ccslia; else had mis't of it. 
But that I think there can no freedom be, 15 

(Cupid) so sweet, as thy Captivity. 
I that could wish thy chains, and live content 
To wear them, not my Gives, but ornament: 
I that could any ransom pay to thee, 
Not to redeem but sell my liberty, 20 

I am neglected; let the cause be known; 
Art thou a niggard of thy arrows grown. 
That wert so prodigall? or dost thou please 
To set thy Pillars up with Hercules 
Weary of conquest? or should I disgrace 25 

Thy victories, if I were daign'd a place 

(3) r have] I have '40, '43, '52, '64. I've '68. 

(18) my] thy '40, ff. 

(20) ,] ; '38. (22) Art thou niggard '68. 



POEMS 79 

Amongst thy other Trophies? none of these, 

Witnesse thy dayly triumphs: who but sees 

Thou still pursuest thy game from high to low; 

No age, no Sexe can scape thy pow'rfuU bow. 30 

Decrepite age whose veins and bones may bee 

An Argument against Philosophy, 

To prove an emptinesse; that has no sense 

Left but his feeling, feels thy influence; 

And dying dotes: not babes thy shafts can misse; 35 

How quickly Infants can be taught to kisse! 

As the poor Apes being dumb these words would borrow, 

/' was born to day to get a babe to morrow. 

Each plow-man thy propitious wounds can prove, 

Tilling the earth, and wishing t'were his love. 40 

Am I invulnerable? is the dart 

Rebeaten, which thou level'st at my heart? 

Ill rest my Parents bones, if they have done 

As Tethis once did to her God-like sonne 

The great Achilles, dipt in Stygian lake; 45 

Though I am so, Cupid, thy arrows take. 

Try where I am not proof, and let me feel 

Thy archery, if not i'th heart, i'th heel. 

Perchance my heart lyes there; who would not be 

A Coward, to be valiant made by thee. 50 

I cannot say thy blindnesse is the cause. 

That I am barr'd the freedom of thy laws; 

The wretched out-Law of thy Mothers Court, 

That place of comfort. Paradise of sport. 

For they may say, that say thou blind canst be, 55 

Eagles want eyes, and only moles can see. 

f30) powerful! '43. ff- (44) Tethis'] Thetis '68. 

(36) can] may '68. (50) .] ? '64, '68. 

(38) / was '43, ff. (52) barr'd] bard '68 laws] layes '68. 

(43) III] rie '43. 



8o THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Not Argus with so many lights did shine, 

For each fair Ladies sparkUng eyes are thine. 

Think'st thou because I doe the Muses love, 

I in thy Camp would a faint souldier prove? 60 

How came Musceus, and Anacreon then 

Into thy troops? how came Tibullus pen 

Amongst thy speares; and how came Ovid (say) 

To be enrold great Generall in thy pay? 

And doubts thou me? suspect you I will tell 65 

The hidden misteries of your Paphian cell, 

To the straight lac'd Diana? or betray 

The secrets of the night, unto the day? 

No Cupid, by thy mothers doves I swear, 

And by her sparrows, 'tis an idle fear. 70 

If Philomel descend to sport with me, 

Know I can be (great Love) as dumb as shee, 

Though shee hath lost her tongue; in such delights 

All should be like her, only talk by nights: 

Make me thy Preist (if Poets truth divine) 75 

rie make the Muses wanton; at thy shrine 

They all shall wait; and Dians selfe shall be 

A votresse to thy Mothers Nunnerie. 

Where zeale with nature shall maintaine no strife; 

Where none swear chastity, and single life. 80 

To Venus-l>[\xr\s an easier oath is read, 

Shee breaks her vow, that keeps her maiden head. 

Reject not then your Flamins ministry: 

Let me but deacon in thy Temples be: 

And see how I shall touch my pow'rfull lyre, 85 

And more inspir'd with thine, then Phoebus fire, 

Chaunt such a moving verse, as soon should frame 

Desire of dalliance in the coyest dame, 

(70) Idle '38. (71) ,]; '38. (79) Where] When 'S2. (88),] ; '38. 



POEMS 8 1 

Melting to amorous thoughts her heart of stone, 

And force her to untrusse her Virgin Zone, 90 

Is Lucrece, or Penelope aHve? 

Give me a Spartan Matron, Sabine wife, 

Or any of the vestals hither call, 

And I will make them be thy converts all. 

Who like good Proselites more in heart then show, 95 

Shall to thy origies all so zealous go, 

That Thais shall, nor Helen such appeare; 

As if they only Loves precisians were. 

But now my Muse dull heavy numbers sings, 

Cupid 'tis thou alone giv'st verse her wings. 100 

The Lawrell-wreath I never shall obtaine, 

Vnlesse thy torch illuminate my braine. 

Love Laurell gives; Phoebus as much can say, 

Had not he lov'd, there had not been the Bay. 

Why is my Presentation then put by.? 105 

Who is't that my Induction dares deny? 

Can any Lady say I am unfit? 

If, so, rie sue my ^uare Impedit. 

I'am young enough, my spirits quick and good; 

My veins swell high with kind and active blood, no 

Nor am I marble; when I see an eye 

Quick, bright, and full, 'raid round with maiestie; 

I feel my heart with a strange heat opprest. 

As 'twere a lightning darted through my brest. 

I long not for the cherries on the Tree, 115 

So much as those which in a lip I see. 

And more affection beare I to the Rose 

That in a cheek, then in a garden grows. 

I gaze on beauteous Virgins with delight. 

And feel my temper vary at the sight; 120 

(92) •] ; '38. (109) I'm '43, ff. (112) rai'd '40, '43, '52 rais'd '64, '68. 



82 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

I know not why, but warmer streams doe glide 

Thorough my veins, sure 'tis a wanton tide. 

But you perchance esteem my love the lesse. 

Because I have a foohsh bashfulnesse, 

A shame-fac'd rose you find within my face, 125 

Whose modest blush frights you from my embrace; 

That's ready now to fall, if you'le but daigne 

To pluck it once, it shall not grow againe. 

Or doe you therefore cast my love away, 

Because I am not expert in the play? 130 

My skill's not known till it be ventred on; 

I have not Aristotle read alone. 

I am in Ovid a proficient too; 

And if you'd heare my Lecture, could to you 

Analize all his art, with so much more 135 

Judgment and skill, then e're 'twas taught before; 

That I might be cheife master, he, dull foole. 

The under usher in the Cyprian Schoole: 

For petty Paedagogue, poore Pedant, he 

First writ the Art, and then the remedie: 140 

But I could set downe rules of love so sure, 

As should exceed Art, and admit no cure. 

Pictures I could invent {Love, were I thine) 

As might stand copies unto Aretine. 

And such new dalliance study, as should frame 145 

Variety in that which is the same. 

I am not then uncapable (great Love') 

Would'st thou my skill but with one arrow prove, 

Giue me a Mistresse in whose looks to joy. 

And such a Mistresse {Love) as will be coy, ijo 

Not easily wonne, though to be wonne in time; 

That from her nicenesse I may store my rhime: 

(121) why; '38. warmer] warme '68. (136) 'twas] was '52, '68 before., '38. 



POEMS 83 

Then in a Thousand sighes, to thee I'le pay 
My Morning Orisons, and every day 
Two Thousand groans, and count these amorous 
prayers, 155 

I make to thee, not by my Beads, but Teares. 
Besides, each day I'le write an Elegy, 
And in as lamentable Poetry 
As any Inns of Court-man, that hath gone 
To buy an Ovid with a Littleton. 160 

But {Love) I see you will not entertaine 
Those that desire to Live amidst your traine; 
For death and you have got a trick to fly 
From such poore wretches as doe wish you nigh. 
You scorne a yeelding slave, and plainly shew it, 165 
Those that contemne your pow'er you make to know it. 

And such am I; I slight your proud commands; 
I mar'le who put a bow into your hands; 
A hobby-horse, or some such pretty toy, 
A rattle would befit you better. Boy. 170 

You conquer Gods and men.? how stand I free, 
That will acknowledge no supremacie 
Vnto your childish Godhead? does it cry? 
Give it a plumme to still it's deity. 
Good Venus let it suck; that it may keep 175 

Lesse bawling; gentle Nurse rock it a sleep. 
Or if you be past babie; and are now 
Come to weare breeches, must we then allow 
Your Boyship leave to shoot at whom you please? 
No, whip it for such wanton tricks as these: 180 

If this doe anger you, I'le send a Bee, 
Shall to a single duell challenge thee: 

(153) sights '68. (168) marie '40, ff. who] you '52. 

(l66) power '40, fiF. (176) brawling '43, '52. 



84 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And make you to your Mam run, and complaine 

The little serpent stung thee once againe. 

Go hunt the butter flyes, and if you can 185 

But catch 'em, make their wings into a fan. 

Wee'le give you leave to hunt and sport at them, 

So you let men alone. But I blaspheme 

(Great Love) I feare I have offended thee, 

If so, be mercifuU, and punish me. 190 

(184) Utile '38 litle '40. 

(188) alone, '43, '64, '68 let me alone, - '52 

(l90)merci{ull, - - '40 '43, '64, '68 '52. 



A gratulatory to M^ Ben Johnson for his 
adopting of him to he his Son. 

I Was not borne to Helicon, nor dare 
Presume to thinke my selfe a Muses heire. 
I have no title to Parnassus hill. 
Nor any acre of it by the will 
Of a dead Ancestour, nor could I bee 
Ought but a tenant unto Poetrie. 
But thy Adoption quits me of all feare. 
And makes me challenge a childs portion there. 
I am a kinne to Heroes being thine, 
And part of my aUiance is divine. 
Orpheus, Musceus, Homer too; beside 
Thy Brothers by the Roman Mothers side; 
As Ovid, Virgil, and the Latine Lyre, 
That is so like thee, Horace; the whole quire 

•o/]om. '52. (9) Hero's '38. (14) thy Horace; '38. 



POEMS 85 

Of Poets are by thy Adoption, all 15 

My uncles; thou hast given me pow'r to call 

Phoebus himselfe my grandsire; by this graunt 

Each Sister of the nine is made my Aunt. 

Go you that reckon from a large descent 

Your lineall Honours, and are well content 20 

To glory in the age of your great name. 

Though on a Herralds faith you build the same: 

I do not envy you, nor thinke you blest 

Though you may beare a Gorgon on your Crest 

By direct line from Perseus; I will boast 25 

No farther than my Father; that's the most 

I can, or should be proud of; and I were 

Vnworthy his adoption, if that here 

I should be dully modest; boast I must 

Being sonne of his Adoption, not his lust. 30 

And to say truth, that which is best in mee 

May call you father, 'twas begot by thee. 

Have I a sparke of that coelestiall flame 

Within me, I confesse I stole the same 

Prometheus like, from thee; and may I feed 35 

His vulture, when I dare deny the deed. 

Many more moones thou hast, that shine by night, 

All Bankrups, wer't not for a borrow'd light; 

Yet can forsweare it; I the debt confesse. 

And thinke my reputation ne're the lesse. 40 

For Father let me be resolv'd by you; 

Is't a disparagement from rich Peru 

To ravish gold; or theft, for wealthy Ore 

To ransack Tagus, or Pactolus shore? 

Or does he wrong Alcinous, that for want 45 

Doth take from him a sprig or two, to plant 

(16) power 'S2, '68. (27) should] could '64, '68. 



86 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

A lesser Orchard? sure it cannot bee: 
Nor is it theft to steale some flames from thee. 
Grant this, and I'le cry guilty, as I am, 
And pay a filiall reverence to thy name. 50 

For when my Muse upon obedient knees, 
Askes not a Fathers blessing, let her leese 
The fame of this Adoption; 'tis a curse 
I wish her 'cause I cannot thinke a worse. 
And here, as Piety bids me, I intreat 55 

Phoebus to lend thee some of his own heat. 
To cure thy Palsie; else I will complaine 
He has no skill in hearbs; Poets in vaine 
Make him the God of Physicke; 'twere his praise 
To make thee as immortall as thy Baies; 60 

As his own Daphne; 'twere a shame to see 
The God, not love his Preist, more then his Tree. 
But if heaven take thee, envying us thy Lyre, 
*Tis to pen Anthems for an Angels quire. 

(60) thy] the '68. 



In Leshiam, ^ Histrionem. 

I Wonder what should Madam Lesbia meane 
To keep young Histrio, and for what scene 
So bravely shee maintaines him; that what sence 
He please to blesse, 'tis done at her expence! 
The play boy spends secure; he shall have more, j 
As if both Indies did supply his store. 
As if he did in bright Pactolus swim. 
Or Tagus yellow waves did water him: 
And yet has no revenews to defray 



POEMS 87 

These charges, but the Madam, shee must pay 10 

His prodigall disbursements: Madams are 

To such as he, more then a treble share. 

Shee payes (which is more then shee needs to doe) 

For her owne comming in, and for his too. 

This is reward due to the sacred sin; 15; 

No charge too much done to the beardlesse chin: 

Allthough shee stint her poore old Knight S^ lohriy 

To live upon his exhibition, 

His hundred marks per Annum; when her loy, 

Her sanguine darling, her spruce active boy 20 

May scatter Angels; rub out silks, and shine 

In cloths of gold; cry loud the world is mine: 

Keepe his Race-nags, and in Hide-parke be seen 

Briske as the best (as if the stage had been 

Growne the Court's Rivall) can to Brackly goe, 25 

To Lincolne Race, and to New-market too; 

At each of these his hundred pounds has vie'd 

On Peggabrigs, or Shotten-herrings side; 

And looses without swearing. Let them curse 

That neither have a Fortunatus purse, 30 

Nor such a Madam; if this world doe hold 

(As very likely 'twill) Madams growne old 

Will be the best Monopolies; Histrio may 

At Maw, or Gleeke, or at Primero play. 

Still Madam goes to stake, Histrio knows 35 

Her worth, and therefore dices too; and goes 

As deepe, the Caster, as the only Sonne 

Of a dead Alderman, come to twenty one 

A whole weeke since; you'd know the reason why 

Lesbia does this; guesse you as well as I; 40 

(10) charges: '68. (40) as I? '64, '68. 

(28) Shotten herring '68. 



88 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Then this I can no better reason tell; 

*Tis 'cause he playes the womans part so well. 

I see old Madams are not only toyle; 

No tilth so fruitfull as a barren soyle. 

Ah poore day labourers, how I pitty you 45 

That shrinke, and sweat to live with much adoe! 

When had you wit to understand the right, 

'Twere better wages to have work'd by night. 

Yet some that resting here, doe only thinke 

That youth with age is an unequall linke, 50 

Conclude that Histrio's taske as hard must bee, 

As was Mezentius bloody cruelty. 

Who made the living to embrace the dead. 

And so expire: but I am rather lead 

His bargaine of the two the best to call; 55 

He at one game keeps her, shee him at all. 

(so) ,] : '38. 



De Histrice. Ex Claudiano. 

FAm'd Stymphall, I have heard, thy birds in flight 
Shoot showers of arrowes forth all levied right. 
And long the fable of those quills of Steele 
Did seeme to me a tale incredible. 
Now I have faith; the Porcupine I see, 5 

And then th' Herculean birds no wonders bee. 
Her longer head like a swines snowt doth show; 
Bristles like homes upon her forehead grow. 
A fiery heat glows from her flaming eye; 
Vnder her shaggy back the shape doth lye 10 

As 'twere a whelpe: nature all Art hath try'd 
In this small beast, so strangely fortified. 



POEMS 89 

A threatning wood o're all her body stands; 

And stiff with Pikes the speckled stalks in bands 

Grow to the warre; while under those doth rise 15 

An other troope, girt with alternate dyes 

Of severall hue; which while a blacke doth fill 

The inward space, ends in a solid quill. 

That lessning by degrees, doth in a while, 

Take a quick point, and sharpens to a Pile. 20 

Nor doth her squadrons like the hedghogs stand 

Fixt; but shee darts them forth, and at command 

Farre off her members aimes; shot through the skie 

From her shak'd side the Native Engines flie. 

Sometimes retiring, Parthian like, shee'l wound 25 

Her following foe; sometimes intrenching round, 

In battaile forme, marshalling all her flanks, 

Shee'l clash her javelins to affright the ranks 

Of her poore enemies, lineing every side 

With speares, to which shee is her selfe allied. 30 

Each part of her's a souldier, from her back 

But stir'd, a horse and horrid noise doth crack; 

That one would think the trumpets did incite 

Two adverse Armies to begin to fight; 

So great a noise, from one so small did rise. 35 

Then to her skill in Armes she is so wise 

As to adde Policy, and a thrifty feare 

Of her owne safety; shee a wrath doth beare 

Not prodigall of weapons, but content 

With wary threatning; and hath seldome sent 40 

An arrow forth, caus'd by an idle strife, 

But spends 'em only to secure her life! 

(14) speeded '38 her speckled '64 stiff as pikes her speckled '68. 

(is) Grow] Go '68. (23) of '38. 

(18) solid] sordid '68. (26) in trenching '38. 

(21) squadron like a Hedge-hog '68. (29) ,] : '38. 

(32) stir'd, a horrid noyse '68 a horse a horrid '52. (42) 'm '68. 



90 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And then her diligent stroke so certaine is 
Without all error, shee will seldome misse. 
No distance cozens her; the dumbe skin aimes right, 
And rules the levy of the skillfull fight. 46 

What humane labour, though we boast it such. 
With all her reason can performe so much? 
They from the Cretan Goats their homes must take, 
And after, those with fire must softer make. 50 

Buls guts must bend their bowes; and e're they fight 
Steele armes their darts: and fethers wing their flights. 

When loe a little beast wee armed see 

With nothing but her owne Artillery: 

Who seeks no forraine aide; with her all goe, 55 

Shee to her selfe is Quiver, darts, and bow. 
One Creature all the Arts of warfare knows; 
If from examples then the Practice flows 
Of humane life, hence did th' Invention grow 
At distance to incounter with our foe. 60 

Hence the Cydonians instructed are 
Their Stratagems, and manner of their warre. 
Hence did the Parthians learne to fight, and fly; 
Taught by this bird their skilfuU Archery. 

(48) Withall '38. (so) those] om. '68. (S9) .] ; '38. 



In Archimedis Spharam ex Claudiano. 

IOve saw the Heavens fram'd in a little glasse. 
And laughing, to the Gods these words did passe; 
Comes then the power of mortall cares so farre? 
In brittle Orbes my labours acted are. 
The statutes of the Poles, the faith of things, 5 

The Laws of Gods this Syracusian brings 



POEMS 91 

Hither by art: Spirits inclos'd attend 

Their severall spheares, and with set motions bend 

The Hving worke: Each yeare the faigned Sun, 

Each Month returnes the counterfeited Moon; 10 

And viewing now her world, bold Industrie 

Grows proud, to know the heavens her subjects bee. 

Beleive Salmonius hath false thunders thrown, 

For a poore hand is Natures rivall grown. 



De Magnete. Ex Claudiano. 

WHo in the world with busy reason pryes, 
Searching the seed of things, & there descryes 
With what defect labours th' Ecclipsed moon, 
What cause commands a palenesse in the Sun, 
Whence ruddy comets with their fatall haire, 5 

Whence winds doe flow, and what the Motions are 
That shake the bowels of the trembling earth; 
What strikes the lightning forth; whence clouds give 

birth 
To horrid thunders; and doth also know 
What light lends lustre to the painted Bow: 10 

If ought of truth his soule doth understand, 
Let him resolve a question Fie demand: 

There is a stone which we the loadstone stile, 
Of colour ugly, darke, obscure, and vile: 
It never deck'd the sleiked locks of Kings, 15 

No Ornament, no gorgeous Tire it brings 
To Virgins beauteous necks, it never showne 
A splendent buckle in ther maiden Zone: 

(8) give] have '68. (l6) ornaments '68. 



92 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

But only heare the wonders I will tell 
Of the black peeble, and 'twill then excell 20 

All bracelets, and what e're the diving Moore 
'Mongst the red weeds seeks for 'ith Easterne shore: 
From Iron first it lives, Iron it eats, 
But that sweet feast it knows no other meats; 
Thence shee renews her strength, vigor is sent 25 

Through all her nerves by that hard nourishment; 
Without that food shee dies, a famine numm's 
Her meager joynts, a thirst her veins consumes. 
Mars that frights Cities with his bloody speares, 
And Fenus that releases humane feares, 30 

Doe both together in one Temple shine. 
Both joyntly honour'd in a common shrine; 
But different Statues, Mars a Steele put on. 
And Fenus figure was Magnetique stone. 
To them (as is the custome every yeare) 35 

The Preist doth celebrate a Nuptiall there. 
The torch the Quire doth lead, the threshold's green 
With hallowed Mirtles, and the beds are seen 
To smell with rosy flowers, the Geniall sheet 
Spread over with a purple Coverlet. 40 

But heare (6 strange) the statues seem'd to move, 
And Cytherea runs to catch her Love; 
And like their former joyes in heaven possest, 
With wanton heat clings to her Mars' es brest; 
There hangs a gratefuU burden; then shee throwes 45 
Her armes about his helmet, to Inclose 
Her love in amorous Gives, least he get out. 
Here live embraces chaine him round about. 
He stir'd with love breath'd gently through his veins, 
Is drawne by unseene links and secret chaines 5° 

(36) This line om. in '68. (41) here '43, ff. (48) Here] Her '52. 



POEMS 93 

To meet his spoused Gemme; the ayre doth wed 

The Steele unto the stone; thus strangely led 

The Deities their stolne delights replay'd, 

And only Nature was the bridall mayd. 

What heat in these two Metals did inspire 55 

Such mutuall league? what concords powrefuU fire 

Contracted their hard minds? the stone doth move 

With amorous heat, the Steele doth learne to love. 

So Venus oft the God of warre withstood, 

And gives him milder looks; when hot with blood 60 

He rages to the fight, fierce with desire. 

And with drawn points whets up his active Ire; 

She dares goe forth alone, and boldly meet 

His foaming steeds, and with a winning greet 

The tumour of his high swolne breast asswage, 65 

Temp'ring with gentle flames his violent rage. 

Peace courts his soule, the fight he disavows, 

And his red plumes he now to kisses bows. 

Ah cruell Boy large thy dominions bee, 
The Gods and all their Thunders yeild to thee: 70 
Great love to leave his heaven thou can'st constraine, 
And midst the brinish waves to Lowe againe. 
Now the cold Rocks thou strik'st, the sencelesse stone 
Thy weapon feeles, a lustfuU heat doth runne 
Through veins of flint, the Steele thy Pow'er can tame; 
And rigid Marble must admit thy flame. 76 

(6s) humor '68. (72) low '43 Love '52. 

(66) Terapring '38. (73) striks't '38. 

(68) to kisses now he '64., '68. (75) power '40, ff. 

(69) Ah! '68. 



94 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



De Sene Veronensi. Ex Claudiano. 

HAppy the man that all his dayes hath spent 
Within his owne grounds, and no farther went: 
Whom the same house that did him erst behold 
A little Infant, sees him now grown old, 
That with his staffe walkes where he crawl'd before, 5 
Counts th' age of one poore cottage and no more. 
Fortune ne're him with various tumult prest, 
Nor dranke he unknown streams, a wandring guest. 
He fear'd no Merchants stormes, nor drummes of war. 
Nor ever knew the strifes of the hoarse Bar. 10 

Who though to th' next Towne he a stranger bee, 
Yet heav'ns sweet prospect he injoyes more free. 
From fruits, not Consuls, computation brings, 
By Apples Autumnes knows, by flowers the springs. 
Thus he the day by his owne orbe doth prize; 15 

In the same feild his Sunne doth set and rise. 
That knew an oake a twigge, and walking thither 
Beholds a wood and he grown up together. 
Neighbou'ring Veron he may for India take. 
And thinke the red sea is Benacus lake. 20 

Yet is his strength untam'd, and firme his knees. 
Him the third age a lusty Grandsire sees. 
Goe seeke who s' will the farre Iberian shore. 
This man hath liv'd, though that hath travel'd more. 

(6) the age '68. (22) Him in the third age '64. 

(19) Neighbouring '43, ff. (23) who's will '52. 



POEMS 95 



The second Epod: of Horace translated. 

HAppy the man which farre from city care; 
(Such as ancient Mortals were) 
With his own oxen plows his fathers land, 

Free from Vsurers griping hand. 
The souldiers trumpets never breake his sleepe, $ 

Nor angry seas that raging keepe. 
He shunnes the wrangling Hall, nor foot doth set 

On the proud thresholds of the Great: 
His life is this (O life almost divine) 

To marry Elmes unto the Vine; lo 

To prune unfruitfull branches, and for them 

To graft a bough of happier stemme. 
Or else within the low couch'd vallies views 

His well cloth'd flocks of bleating ewes. 
Sometimes his hony he in pots doth keepe, 15 

Sometimes he sheares his fleecy sheepe. 
And when his fruits with Autumne ripened bee 

Gathers his Apples from the Tree. 
And joyes to tast the peares himselfe did plant, 

And Grapes that naught of purple want. 20 

Vnder an Oake sometimes he layes his head. 

Making the tender grasse his bed. 
Meane while the streams along their banks doe float 

And birds doe chaunt with warbling throat; 
And gentle springs a gentle murmure keepe, 25 

To lull him to a quiet sleepe. 
When winter comes, and th' ayre doth chillier grow, 

Threatning showers and shivering snow; 

(7) food '64. f9) )] !) '43. ff- (14) fioc'ks '38 



96 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Either with hounds he hunts the tusked swine 

That foe unto the corne and vine; 30 

Or layes his nets; or limes the unctuous bush 

To catch the blackbird, or the thrush. 
Sometimes the Hare he courses, and one way 

Makes both a pleasure and a prey. 
But if with him a modest wife doth meet, 35 

To guide his house and children sweet; 
Such as the Sabine or Apulean wife. 

Something brown but chast of life; 
Such as will make a good warme fire to burne. 

Against her wearied Mate's returne; 40 

And shutting in her stalls her fruitful! Neat, 

Will milke the kines distended Teat: 
Fetching her husband of her selfe-brew'd beere. 

And other wholesome Country cheere. 
Suppe him with bread and cheese, Pudding or Pye, 45 

Such dainties as they doe not buy: 
Give me but these, and I shall never care 

Where all the Lucrine oisters are; 
These wholsome Country dainties shall to mee 

Sweet as Tench or Sturgeon bee. 50 

Had I but these I well could be without 

The Carp, the Sammon, or the Trout : 
Nor should the Phoenix selfe so much delight 

My not ambitious appetite. 
As should an Apple snatch'd from mine own trees, 55 

Or hony of my labouring Bees. 
My Cattels udders should afford me food, 

My sheep my cloth, my ground my wood. 
Sometimes a lambe, snatch'd from the wolfe shall bee 

A banquet for my freind and mee. 60 

(38) Sometimes '68. (4S) Pye,] bye, '43, '52. 

(42) Teat s 'S2. (46) buy:] any : '43, '52. 



POEMS 97 

Sometimes a Calfe ta'ne from her lowing Cow, 

Or tender Issue of the Sow. 
Our Gardens sallets yeild, Mallowes to keepe 

Loose bodies, Lettice for to sleepe. 
The cakUng Hen an egge for breakfast layes, 65 

And Duck that in our water playes. 
The Goose for us her tender plumes hath bred 

To lay us in a softer bed. 
Our blankets are not dy'd with Orphans teares, 

Our Pillows are not stufF'd with cares. 70 

To walke on our owne grounds a stomack gets, 

The best of sawce to tart our meats. 
In midst of such a feast, 'tis joy to come 

And see the well fed Lambs at home. 
*Tis pleasure to behold th' inversed Plow 75 

The Lanquid necks of Oxen bow. 
And view th' industrious servants that will sweat 

Both at labour and at meat. 
Lord grant me but enough; I aske no more 

Then will serve mine, and helpe the poore. 80 

(72) tart] cure '52. our] out '38. 



An Elegie upon the Lady Venetia Digby. 

DEath, who'ld not change prerogatives with thee, 
That dost such rapes, yet mayst not ques- 
tion'd bee? 
Here cease thy wanton lust, be satisfi'd, 
Hope not a second, and so faire a bride. 
Where was her Mars, whose valiant armes did hold 5 
This Venus once, that thou durst be so bold 

Venetian Digby. '52. (2) ?] om. '38. 



98 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

By thy too nimble theft? I know 'twas feare, 

Lest he should come, that would have rescu'd her. 

Monster confesse, didst thou not blushing stand, 

And thy pale cheeke turne red to touch her hand? lo 

Did shee not lightning-like strike suddaine heat 

Through thy cold limbs, and thaw thy frost to sweate? 

Well since thou hast her, use her gently, Death, 

And in requitall of such pretious breath 

Watch sentinell to guard her, doe not see ij 

The wormes thy rivals, for the Gods will bee. 

Remember Paris, for whose pettier sin, 

The Troian gates let the stout Grecians in; 

So when time ceases, (whose unthrifty hand 

Has now almost consum'd his stock of sand) 20 

Myriads of Angels shall in Armies come, 

And fetch (proud ravisher) their Helen home. 

And to revenge this rape, thy other store 

Thou shalt resigne too, and shalt steale no more. 

Till then faire Ladies (for you now are faire, 25 

But till her death I fear'd your just dispaire,) 

Fetch all the spices that Arabia yeelds. 

Distill the choycest flowers of the fields: 

And when in one their best perfections meet 

Embalme her course, that shee may make them sweet. 

Whilst for an Epitaph upon her stone 31 

I cannot write, but I must weepe her one. 

Epitaph. 
Beauty it selfe lyes here, in whom alone, 
Each part injoy'd the same perfection. 
In some the Eyes we praise; in some the Haire; 35 
In her the Lips; in her the Cheeks are faire; 

(10) turnd 68.' (20) Ha's '38. 

(18) Grecian' 52. (22) their] there '38. (32) This line ora. in '68 



POEMS 99 

That Nymphs fine Feet, her Hands we beauteous call, 

But in this forme we praise no part, but all. 

The ages past have many beauties showne, 

And I more plenty in our time have knowne; 40 

But in the age to come I looke for none, 

Nature despaires, because her patterns gone. 



An Epitaph upon M" /, T. 

REader if thou hast a teare, 
Thou canst not choose but pay it here. 
Here lyes modesty, meeknesse, zeale, 
Goodnesse, Piety, and to tell 

Her worth at once, one that had showne 5 

All vertues that her sex could owne. 
Nor dare my praise too lavish bee, 
Least her dust blush for soe would shee. 
Hast thou beheld in the spring's bowers 
Tender buds breake to bring forth flowers: xo 

So to keepe vertues stock, pale death 
Tooke her to give her infant breath. 
Thus her accounts were all made even, 
Shee rob'd not earth to adde to heaven. 

Mittris /. T. '43, '64 Mrs. J. T. '52 Mistriss J. T. '68. 

(13) were all] are well '68. 



lOO THOMAS RANDOLPH 



M 



An Epithalamium. 

Vse be a bride-maid, dost not heare 
How honoured Hunt and his faire Deerty 
This day prepare their wedding cheere? 



The swiftest of thy pinions take, 

And hence a suddaine journey make, 5 

To help *em breake their bridall Cake. 

Hast *em to Church, tell 'em love sayes 
Religion breeds but fond delayes. 
To lengthen out the tedious dayes. 

Chide the slow Preist, that so goes on, 10 

As if he feard he should have done 
His sermon, e're the glasse be runne. 

Bid him post o'er his words, as fast 

As if himselfe were now to tast 

The pleasure of so faire a wast. 15 

Now lead the blessed Couple home, 
And serve a dinner up for some; 
Their banquet is as yet to come. 

Maids dance as nimbly as your blood. 

Which I see swell a purple flood 20 

In Emulation of that good 

The bride possesseth; for I deeme 
What shee enjoyes will be the theme 
This night of every virgins dreame. 

No separation between 11. i8 and 19 in '38. 



POEMS lOl 

But envy not their blest content, 25 

The hasty night is almost spent, 
And they of Cupid will be shent. 

The Sunne is now ready to ride, 
Sure 'twas the morning I espide, 
Or 'twas the blushing of the bride. 30 

See how the lusty bridegrooms veins 

Swell, till the active torrent strains 

To breake those o're stretcht azure chaines. 

And the faire bride ready to cry 

To see her pleasant losse so nigh, 35 

Pants like the sealed Pigeons eye. 

Put out the torch, Love loves no lights. 
Those that performe his misticke rites 
Must pay their Orisons by nights. 

Nor can that sacrifice be done 40 

By any Priest, or Nun alone, 

But when they both are met in one. 

Now you that tast of Hymens cheere. 
See that your lips doe meet so neare. 
That Cockels might be tutor'd there; 45 

And let the whisprings of your love 
Such short and gentle murmurs prove. 
As they were Lectures to the dove. 

{38) his] their '52. (45) may 68. 



102 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And in such strict embraces twine 

As if you read unto the Vine, 50 

The Ivy, and the Columbine. 

Then let your mutuall bosomes beat, 

Till they create by virtuall heat 

Mirre, Balme, and spikenard in a sweat. 

Thence may there spring many a paire 55 

Of Sonnes and Daughters strong and faire: 
How soone the Gods have heard my praier! 

Me thinks already I espy 

The cradles rock, the babies cry, 

And drousy Nurses Lullaby. 60 

(57) This line indented in '38. 



^An Epitaph upon his honour d freifid Af Warre. 

HEre lyes the knowing head, the honest heart, 
Faire blood, and curteous hands, and every part 
Of gentle Warre, all with one stone content. 
Though each deserv'd a severall monument. 
He was (believe me Reader) for 'tis rare s 

Virtuous though young, and learned though an heire. 
Not with his Blood, or Natures gifts content 
He paid them both the tribute which they lent. 
His ancestors in him fixed their pride, 
So with him all reviv'd, with him all dyed. lo 

'(2) hand '64- (7) vertues gift '68. 



POEMS 103 

This made death Hngring come, asham'd to bee 
At once the ruine of a familie. 

Learne Reader here, though long thy line hath stood, 
Time breeds consumptions in the noblest blood. 
Learne (Reader) here to what our Glories come, 15 
Here's no distinction 'twixt the House and Toombe. 

(13) lone '68. 



Fpon the losse of his little finger. 

ARithmetique nine digits, and no more 
Admits of, then I still have all my store. 
For what mischance hath tane from my left 
hand. 
It seemes did only for a Cipher stand. 
But this rie say for thee departed joynt, 5 

Thou wert not given to steale, nor pick, not point 
At any in disgrace; but thou didst go 
Vntimely to thy Death only to show 
The other members what they once must doe; 
Hand, arme, legge, thigh, and all must follow too. 10 
Oft didst thou scan my verse, where if I misse 
Henceforth I will impute the cause to this. 
A fingers losse (I speake it not in sport) 
Will make a verse a Foot too short. 
Farewell deare finger, much I greive to see 15 

How soone mischance hath made a Hand of thee. 

(6) nor pick,] not pick, '43, '64 to pick, '52 or pick, '68. 
(14) verse sometimes a foot too short. '64, '68. 



I04 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

On the Passion of Christ. 

WHat rends the temples vail, wher is day gone? 
How can agenerall darknesse cloud the Sun? 
Astrologers their skill in vaine doe try; 
Nature must needs be sick, when God can dye. 

(4) can] must '68. 



Necessary Observations. 

I Precept. 

First worship God, he that forgets to pray 
Bids not himselfe good morrow nor good day. 
Let thy first labour be to purge thy sin; 
And serve him first, whence all things did begin. 

2 Pre. 

Honour thy Parents to prolong thine end, 5 

With them though for a truth doe not contend. 
Though all should truth defend, doe thou loose rather 
The truth a while, then loose their Loves for ever. 
Who ever makes his fathers heart to bleed, 
Shall have a child that will revenge the deed. 10 

3 Pre. 

Thinke that is just; 'tis not enough to doe, 
Vnless thy very thoughts are upright too. 

4 Pre. 

Defend the truth, for that who will not dye, 
A coward is, and gives himselfe the lye. 

5 Pre. 
Honour the King, as sonnes their Parents doe, 15 

For he's thy Father, and thy Country's too. 



POEMS 105 

6 Pre. 

A freind is gold; if true heele never leave thee, 
Yet both without a touchstone may deceive thee. 

7 Pre. 
Suspicious men thinke others false, but hee 

Cozens himselfe that will too credulous bee. 20 

For thy freinds sake, let no suspect be shown; 
And shun to be too credulous for thine own. 

8 Pre. 

Take well what e're shall chance, though bad it bee; 
Take it for good, and 'twill be so to thee. 

9 Pre. 

Swear not: An oath is like a dangerous dart 25 

Which shot rebounds to strike the shooters heart. 

10 Pre. 

The law's the path of life; then that obey. 
Who keeps it not hath wandring lost his way. 

11 Pre. 

Thanke those that doe thee good, so shalt thou gaine 
Their second helpe, if thou shouldst need againe. 30 

12 Pre. 

To doubtfull matters doe not headlong run; 
What's well left off, were better not begun. 

13 Pre. 

Be well advis'd, and wary counsell make, 

E're thou dost any action undertake. 

Having undertaken, thy endeauours bend 35 

To bring thy Action to a perfect end. 

14 Pre. 

Safe in thy brest close lock up thy Intents; 
For he that knows thy purpose, best prevents. 

(21) subject '68. (36) actions '68. 



Io6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

15 Pre. 

To tell thy miseries will no comfort breed, 
Men helpe thee most that thinke thou hast no need. 
But if the world once they misfortunes know, 41 

Thou soone shalt loose a freind, and find a foe. 

16 Pre. 

Keepe thy freinds goods; for should thy wants be known. 
Thou canst not tell but they may be thine own. 

17 Pre. 

To gather wealth through fraud doe not presume, 45 
A little evill got will much consume. 

18 Pre. 

First thinke, and if thy thoughts approve thy will 
Then speake, and after what thou speakst fulfill. 

19 Pre. 

Spare not, nor spend too much; be this thy care, 
Spare but to spend, and only spend to spare. 50 

Who spends too much may want, and so complaine. 
But he spends best that spares to spend againe. 

20 Pre. 

If with a stranger thou discourse first learne 

By strictest observations to discerne. 

If he be wiser then thy selfe; if so 55 

Be dumbe, and rather choose by him to know. 

But if thy selfe perchance the wiser bee, 

Then doe thou speake that he may learne by thee. 

21 Pre. 

If thou dispraise a man let no man know, 

By any circumstance that he's thy foe: 60 

If men but once find that, they'l quickly see 

Thy words from hate, and not from judgment bee. 

(44) thine] thy '68. 



POEMS 107 

If thou wouldst tell his vice, doe what you can 
To make the world believe thou lov'st the man. 

22 Pre. 

Reprove not in their wrath incensed men, 65 

Good councell comes cleane out of season then. 

But when his fury is appeas'd and past, 

He will conceive his fault and mend at last. 

When he is coole, and calme then utter it; 

No man gives Physick in the midst oth' Fit. 70 

23 Pre. 

Seeme not too conscious of thy worth, nor be 

The first that knows thy own sufficiency. 

If to thy King and Country thy true care 

More servicable is then others are. 

That blaze in court, and every Action sway 75 

As if the Kingdome on their shoulders lay. 

Or if thou serv'st a master, and dost see 

Others prefer'd of lesse Desert then thee, 

Doe not complaine though such a Plaint be true. 

Lords will not give their Favours as a Due. 80 

But rather stay and hope: it cannot bee 

But men at last must needs thy vertues see. 

So shall thy trust endure, and greater grow. 

Whilst they that are above thee, fall below. 

24 Pre. 

Desire not thy mean fortunes for to set 85 

Next to the stately Mannors of the Great. 
He will suspect thy labours, and oppresse. 
Fearing thy greatnesse makes his wealth the lesse. 
Great ones doe love no Equals: But must bee 
Aboue the Termes of all comparitie. 90 

(68) mend] men '38. (86)Manner8 '52. 

(8s) meane-fortunes '38. 



I08 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Such a rich Neighbour is compared best 

To the great Pike that eats up all the rest. 

Or else like Pharaohs Cow, that in an houre 

Will seaven of his fattest freinds devoure. 

Or like the sea whose vastnesse swallows cleane 95 

All other streams, though no encrease be scene. 

Live by the Poore, they doe the Poore no harme; 

So Bees thrive best when they together swarme. 

Rich men are Bears, and Poore men ought to feare 'em. 

Like ravenous wolfes; 'tis dangerous living neare 'em. 100 

25 Pre. 

Each man three Divils hath, selfe borne afflictions; 
Th' unruly Tongue, the Belly, and Affections. 
Charme these, such holy Conjurations can 
Gaine thee the friendship both of God and man. 

26 Pre. 

So Hue with man as if Gods curious eye, loj 

Did every where into thine Actions prie. 

For never yet was sinne so void of sence. 

So fully fac'd with brazen Impudence, 

As that it durst before mens eyes commit 

Their beastly lusts, least they should witnesse it. no 

How dare they then offend, when God shall see. 

That must alone both ludge and lury bee? 

27 Pre. 

Take thou no care how to deferre thy death. 

And give more respit to this Mortall breath. 

Would'st thou live long? the only meanes are these 115 

'Bove Galens diet, or Hippocrates. 

Strive to live well; Tread in the upright wayes, 

And rather count thy Actions then thy dayes, 

(100) wolves '43, B. (106) thy '68. 

(101) hath '38 hath; '43, fF. affliction, '$2. (112) ?] . '38. 



POEMS 109 

Then thou hast liv'd enough amongst us here, 

For every day well spent I count a yeare. no 

Live well, and then how soone soe*re thou die, 

Thou art of Age to claim -^ternitie. 

But he that out lives Nestor, and appeares 

T'have the date of gray Mathusalems yeares. 

If his life to sloth and sinne doth give, 125 

I say he only Was, he did not Live! 

28 Pre. 

Trust not a man unknown he may deceive thee; 
And doubt the man thou knowst for he may leave 

thee. 
And yet for to prevent exceptions too, 
'Tis best not seeme to doubt although you doe. 130 

29 Pre. 

Heare much but little speake, a wise man feares. 
And will not use his tongue so much as eares. 
The Tongue if it the hedge of Teeth doe break 
Will others shame, and its own Ruine speak. 
I never yet did ever read of any 135 

Vndone by hearing, but by speaking many. 
The reason's this, the Eares if chast and holy. 
Doe let in wit, the Tongue doth let out folly. 

30 Pre. 

To all alike be curteous, meeke, and kind, 

A winning carriage with indifferent mind, 140 

Be not familiar, that must be exempt, 

Groomes saucy love soone turnes into contempt. 

Be sure he be at least as good as thee. 

To whom thy freindship shall familiar bee. 

(124) Methus'lem's '68. (137) holly 'jz. 

(129) exception '43, ff. (142) love, '38. 



110 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

31 Pre. 

ludge not between two freinds, but rather see 145 

If thou canst bring them freindly to agree. 

So shalt thou both their Loves to thee encrease, 

And gaine a Blessing too for making Peace; 

But if thou should'st decide the cause i' th' end. 

How e're thou judge thou sure shalt loose a freind. 150 

32 Pre. 

Thy credit wary keepe, 'tis quickly gone; 
Being got by many Actions, lost by one. 

33 Pre. 

Vnto thy Brother buy not, sell, nor lend, 

Such Actions have their own peculiar end; 

But rather choose to give him, if thou see 155 

That thou hast pow'er, and bee necessitie. 

34 Pre- 

Spare in thy youth, least Age should find thee poore 
When time is past, and thou canst spare no more. 
No coupl'd misery is so great in either, 
As Age and Want when both doe meet together. 160 

35 Pre. 

Fly Drunkennesse, whose vile incontinence 

Takes both away the reason and the sence. 

Till with Circcean cups thy mind possest 

Leaves to be man, and wholy turnes a Beast. 

Thinke whilst thou swallowest the capacious Bowle,i65 

Thou let'st in Seas to wrack and drown the soule. 

That hell is open, to remembrance call, 

And thinke how subject drunkards are to Fall. 

Consider how it soone destroyes the grace 

Of humane shape, spoyling the beauteous face. 170 

(152) .] . '38. (163) Ciraean Kups '43, '52 mind's '43, '52, '68. 

(156) power '40 ff. 



POEMS III 

Puffing the cheekes, blearing the curious eye, 

Studding the face with vitious Heraldry. 

What Pearles and Rubies doth the wine disclose, 

Making the purse poore to enrich the Nose? 

How does it nurse disease, infect the heart. 175 

Drawing some sicknesse into every part! 

The stomack overcloyd, wanting a vent 

Doth up againe resend her excrement. 

And then (6 see what too much wine can doe!) 

The very soule being drunke spews secrets too. 180 

The Lungs corrupted breath contagious ayre. 

Belching up fumes that unconcocted are. 

The Braine o'rewarm'd (loosing her sweet repose) 

Doth purge her filthy ordure through the nose. 

The veins doe boyle glutted with vitious food, 185 

And quickly Fevers the distemper'd blood. 

The belly swells, the foot can hardly stand 

Lam'd with the Gout; the Palsie shakes the Hand. 

And through the flesh sick waters sinking in. 

Doe bladder-like puflFe up the dropsi'd skin. 190 

It weaks the Braine, it spoiles the memory; 

Hasting on Age, and wilfuU Poverty. 

It drownes thy better parts; making thy name 

To foes a laughter, to thy freinds a shame. 

'Tis vertues poyson, and the bane of trust, 195 

The match of wrath, the fuell unto lust. 

Quite leave this vice, and turne not to't againe, 

Vpon Presumption of a stronger braine. 

For he that holds more wine then others can, 

I rather count a Hogshead then a man. 200 

fl99) other '38, '64, '68. 



112 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

36 Pre. 

Let not thy Impotent lust so pow'rfull bee 

Over thy Reason, Soule, and Liberty, 

As to enforce thee to a marryed life, 

E're thou art able to maintaine a wife. 

Thou canst not feed upon her lips and face 205 

Shee cannot cloth thee with a poore imbrace. 

My selfe being yet alone, and but one still, 

With patience could endure the worst of ill. 

When fortune frownes, one to the wars may goe 

To fight against his foes, and fortunes too. 210 

But (6) the greife were trebled for to see 

Thy wretched Bride halfe pin'd with Povertie. 

To see thy Infants make their dumb complaint 

And thou not able to releive their want. 

The poorest begger when he's dead and gone, 215 

Is rich as he that sits upon the Throne. 

But he that having no estate is wed, 

Starves in his grave, being wretched when he's dead. 

37 Pre- 

If e're I take a wife I will have one 

Neither for beauty nor for portion, 220 

But for her vertues; and I'le married bee 

Not for my lust, but for posteritie. 

And when I am wed, I'le never iealous bee. 

But make her learne how to be chast by mee. 

And be her face what 'twill, I'le thinke her faire 225 

If shee within the house confine her care. 

If modest in her words and cloths shee bee. 

Not daub'd with pride and prodigalitie. 

If with her neighbours shee maintaines no strife, 

And beare her selfe to me a faithfuU wife, 230 

(201) povverfull '40 powerfull '43, ff. (21 1) treble '43, ff. 



POEMS 113 

Fde rather unto such a one be wed 
Then claspe the choicest Helen in my bed. 
Yet though shee were an Angell my affection 
Should only love, not dote on her perfection. 



A Platonick Elegie. 

LOve, give me leave to serve thee, and be wise 
To keepe thy torch in, but restore blind eyes. 
I will a flame into my bosome take. 
That Martyrs Court when they embrace the stake: 
Not dull, and smoakie fires, but heat divine, 5 

That burnes not to consume, but to refine. 
I have a Mistresse for perfections rare 
In every eye, but in my thoughts most faire. 
Like Tapers on the Altar shine her eyes; 
Her breath is the perfume of Sacrifice. 10 

And where soe're my fancy would begin, 
Still her perfection lets religion in. 
I touch her like my Beads with devout care; 
And come unto my Courtship as my Praier. 
We sit, and talke, and kisse away the houres, 15 

As chastly as the morning dews kisse flowers. 

Goe wanton Lover, spare, thy sighs and teares, 
Put on the Livery which thy dotage weares. 
And call it Love, where heresie gets in 
Zeal's but a coale to kindle greater sin. 20 

Wee weare no flesh, but one another greet. 
As blessed soules in separation meet. 

An Elegit '38. (14) Court-ships '68. 

(3) my] thy '58. (17) Line not indented in '38. 

(4) stake] state '68. (18) the] thy '68. 
(7) perfection '68. 



114 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Wer't possible that my ambitious sin, 

Durst commit rapes upon a Cherubin, 

I might have lustfull thoughts to her, of all 25 

Earths heav'nly Quire the most Angelicall. 

Looking into my brest, her forme I find 

That like my Guardian-Angell keeps my mind 

From rude attempts; and when affections stirre, 

I calme all passions with one thought of her. 30 

Thus they whose reasons love, and not their sence, 

The spirits love: thus one Intelligence 

Reflects upon his like, and by chast loves 

In the same spheare this and that Angell moves. 

Nor is this barren Love; one noble thought 35 

Begets an other, and that still is brought 

To bed of more; vertues and grace increase, 

And such a numerous issue ne're can cease. 

Where Children, though great blessings, only bee 

Pleasures repriv'd to some posteritie. 40 

Beasts love like men, if men in lust delight 

And call that love which is but appetite. 

When essence meets with essence, and soules joyne 

In mutuall knots, thats the true Nuptall twine: 

Such Lady is my Love, and such is true; 45 

All other Love is to your Sexe, not You. 

(29) afBictioas '68. 



POEMS 115 

An Apologie for his false Prediction that his 
Aunt Lane would be deliver d of a Sonne. 

Mai'Tis aotaros os tU eiKofet KaXoJs. 
The best Prophets are but good Guessers. 

A Re then the Sibils dead? what is become 
Of the lowd Oracles? are the Augurs dumbe? 
Live not the Magi that so oft reveald 
Natures intents? is Gipsisme quite repeald? 
Is Friar Bacon nothing but a name? 5 

Or is all witchcraft braind with Doctor Lambe? 
Does none the learned Bungies soule inherit? 
Has Madam Davers dispossest her spirit? 
Or will the Welchmen give me leave to say 
There is no faith in Merlin? none, though they lo 
Dare sweare each letter creed, and pawne their blood 
He prophecied, an age before the flood, 
Of holy Dee; which was, as some have said, 
Ten generations ere the Arke was made. 
All your predictions but Impostures are, 15 

And you but prophecy of things that were. 

And you Coelestiall luglers that pretend 
You are acquainted with the starres, and send 
Your spyes to search what's done in every spheare. 
Keeping your state-intelligencers there 20 

Your art is all deceit; for now I see 
Against the Rules of deepe Astrologie, 
Girles may be got when Mars his power doth vaunt, 
And boyes when Venus is Predominant. 

'«K(£f« '38. 

(20) state intelligencers '38. (26),] om. '38. 



Il6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Nor doth the Moone though moist and cold shee bee 

Alwaies at full, work to produce the shee: 26 

Had this been true I had foretold no lie, 

It was the Art was in the wrong, not I. 

Thence I so dully err'd in my beleife. 

As to mistake an Adam for an Eve: 30 

grosse mistake, and in the civill pleas 
Error Persona, y\} Doctor sayes. 

And may admit divorce; but farewell now 

You hungry star-fed Tribe, hence forth I vow 

Talmud., Albumazar^ and Ptolomie, 35 

With Erra-Pater shall no Gospell bee. 

Nor will I ever after this I sweare 

Throw Dice upon the shepheards Calender. 

But why doe I t' excuse my Ignorance 

Lay blame upon the Art? no, no, perchance 40 

1 have lost all my skill: for well I know 
My Physiognomic two years agoe 

By the small Pox was mar'd, and it may bee 
A fingers losse hath spoild my Palmistry. 

But why should I a grosse mistake confesse.? 45 
No I am confident I did but guesse 
The very truth: it was a male child then, 
But Aunt you staid till 'twas a wench agen. 
To see th' unconstancy of humane things. 
How little time great Alteration brings! 50 

All things are subject unto change we know. 
And if all things, why then not sexes too? 
Tyresias we read a man was borne 
Yet after did into a woman turne. 

{31) ,] ! '68. (34) vow] now '38. 

(J2) Master '40, ff. (51) thing '38. 

(33) many '64, '68. 



POEMS 117 

Levinus a Physitian of great fame, 55 

Reports that one at Paris did the same. 

And devout Papists say certaine it is, 

One of their Popes by Metamorphosis 

Indur'd the same; else how could loan be heire 

To the succession of S. Peters chaire. 60 

So I at Chairing crosse have beheld one 
A statue cut out of the Parian stone 
To figure great Alcides; which when well 
The Artist saw it was not like to sell. 
He takes his chissill, and away he pares 65 

Part of his sinewy neck, shaving the haires 
Of his rough beard and face, smoothing the brow, 
And making that looke amorous, which but now 
Stood wrinkled with his anger; from his head 
He poles the shaggy locks, that had o're spread 70 
His brawny shoulders with a fleece of haire. 
And workes insteed more gentle tresses there. 
And thus his skill exactly to expresse, 
Soone makes a Venus of an Hercules. 
And can it then impossible appeare, 75 

That such a change as this might happen here? 
For this cause therefore (Gentle Aunt) I pray 
Blame not my Prophecy, but your delay. 

But this will not excuse me; that I may 
Directly cleare my selfe, there is no way 80 

Vnlesse the Jesuits will to me impart 
The secret depth of their mysterious art; 
Who from their halting Patriot learne to frame 
A Crutch for every word that fals out lame. 

(56) that] of '68. ^69) ,] ; '38. 

(60) Saint '43, '52 St. '68. (70) pulls '68 that] and '40, '43, '52- 

61) Not indented in '38. (74) an] a '64, '68. 

(64) >] ; '38. (82) ;] . '38. 



Il8 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

That can the subtle difference discry 85 

Betwixt aequivocation and a he. 

And a rare scape by sly distinction find 

To sweare the Tongue, and yet not sweare the mind. 

Now arm'd with Arguments I nothing dread, 

But my own cause thus confidently plead. 90 

I said there was a boy within your wombe. 
Not actually, but one in time to come. 
Or by Antiphrasis my words might bee 
That ever understands the contrary; 
Or when I said you should a man-child beare, 95 

You understood me of the sexe I feare. 
When I did meane the mind; and thus define 
A woman but of spirit masculine. 
Or had I said it should a girle have been 
And it had prov'd a boy, you should have seen 100 
Me solve it thus; I meant a boy by fate, 
But one that would have been effeminate. 
Or thus I had my just excuse begun, 
I said my Aunt would surely bring a sonne 
If not a daughter; what we seers forsee 105 

Is certaine truth unlesse it falshood bee. 
Or I affirme because shee brought forth one 
That will bring boyes, shee hath brought forth a son. 
For doe not we call Father Adam thus. 
Because that he got those that have got us? no 

What ere I said by simple Affirmation, 
I meant the right by mentall reservation. 

(91) with in '38. (no) ?] . '38. 

(100) you] it '38. (112) mintall reservation \q,S. 



POEMS 119 

Jn Epithalamium to M^ F. H. 

FRanke, when this Morne the harbinger of day 
Blush'd from her Easterne pillow where shee lay 
Clasp'd in her Tythons arms red with those kisses. 
Which being injoy'd by night, by day shee misses. 
I walk'd the feilds to see the teeming earth, 5 

Whose wombe now swells to give the flowers a birth. 
Where while my thoughts with every object tane, 
In severall contemplations rapt my braine, 
A suddaine lustre like the Sunne did rise. 
And with so great a light eclips'd mine eyes. 10 

At last I spyed a Beauty such another, 
As I have sometimes heard call thee her Brother. 
But by the chariot, and her teame of Doves, 
I guest her to be Venus, Queene of Loves. 
With her a pretty boy I there did see, 15 

But for his wings I' had thought it had been thee. 
At last when I beheld his quiver of darts, 
I knew t'was Cupid, Emp'ror of our hearts. 
Thus I accosted them, Goddesse divine, 
Great Queene of Paphos and Cytherian shrine: 20 

Whose Altars no man sees that can depart 
Till in those flames he sacrifice his heart; 
That conquer'st Gods, and men; and heaven divine, 
Yea and hell too: Beare witnesse Proserpine. 
And Cupid, thou that canst thy Trophies show 25 
Over all these, and o're thy Mother too; 
Witnesse the night which when with Mars shee lay. 
Did all her sports to all the Gods betray: 

(8) wrapt '52. (18) Emperour '38. 

(14) guesse '52. (23) conquerest '38. 

(16) I had '40, '43, '52 I'd '64 I'de '68. 



I20 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Tell me great Powers; what makes such glorious beams 

Visit the lowly banks of Ninus streams? 30 

Then Fenus smil'd, and smiling bid me know 

Cupid and shee must both to Weston goe. 

I guest the cause; for Hymen came behind 

In saffron robes, his Nuptiall knots to bind. 

Then thus I pray'd: Great Venus by the Love 35 

Of thy Adonis; as thou hop'st to move 

Thy Mars to second kisses; and obtaine 

Beauties reward, the Golden fruit againe: 

Bow thy faire eares to my chast prayers, and take 

Such Orisons as purest Love can make. 40 

Thou, and thy boy I know are posting thither 

To tye pure hearts in purest bonds together. 

Cupid thou know'st the maid: I' have seene thee lye 

With all thy arrowes lurking in her eye. 

Venus thou know'st her love, for I have seene 45 

The time thou would'st have faine her Rivall been. 

blesse them both! Let their affections meet 
With happy omens in the Geniall sheet. 

Both comely, beauteous both, both equall faire. 
Thou canst not glory in a fitter paire. 50 

1 would not thus have praid if I had seen 
Fourscore and ten, wed to a young fifteen. 
Death in such Nuptials seems with love to play, 
And January seems to match with May: 
Autumne to wed the Spring; Frost to desire 55 
To kisse the Sun; Ice to embrace the fire. 

Both these are young, both sprightfuU, both compleat, 

Of equall moisture, and of equall heat: 

And their desires are one; were all Loves such 

Who would love solitary sheets so much? 60 

{43) I have '40, '43, '52 I've '64, '68. (59) Loves] love '68. 



POEMS 121 

Virginity (whereof chast fooles doe boast; 

A thing not known what 'tis, till it be lost) 

Let others praise; for me I cannot tell 

What vertue 'tis to lead Baboons in hell. 

Woman is one with man when shee is brided; 65 

The same in kind, only in sexe divided. 

Had all dy'd maids, we had been nothing then; 

Adam had been the first, and last of men. 

How none O Venus then thy power had seen? 

How then in vaine had Cupids arrows been? 70 

My selfe whose coole thoughts feele no hot desires. 

That serve not Venus flames, but Vestas fires; 

Had I not vow'd the cloysters, to confine 

My selfe to no more wives then only nine 

Parnassus brood; those that heare Phoebus sing, 75 

Bathing their naked limbs in Thespian spring. 

rde rather bee an Owle of Birds, then one 

That is the Phanix if shee live alone. 

Two is the first of numbers; one naught can doe. 

One then is good, when one is made of two. 80 

Which mistery is thine great Venus, thine; 

Thy union can two soules in one combine. 

Now by that power I charge thee blesse the sheets 

With happy issue where this couple meets. 

The maid's a Harvy, one that may compare 85 

With fruit Hesperian, or the Dragons care. 

Her Love a Ward; not he that awed the seas. 

Frighting the fearefuU Hamadryades, 

That Ocean terrour, he that durst outbrave 

Dread Neptunes Trident, Amphitrites wave. 90 

(62) what, 'tis '38. (78) live] be '68. 

(64) vertue, 'tis '38. (79) Two is] Two's '40, ff. numbers, '40 ff. 

(74) to more '68. (88) ,] . '38. 

{76) their] her '68. 



122 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

This Ward a milder Pirat sure will prove, 

And only sailes the Hellespont of Love, 

As once Leander did; his theft is best 

That nothing steales but whats within the brest. 

Yet let that other Ward his thefts compare, 95 

And ransack all his treasures, let him beare 

The wealth of worlds, the bowels of the West 

And all the richest treasures of the East. 

The sands of Tagus, all Pactolus ore, 

With both the Indies; yet this one gets more 100 

At once by Love, then he by force could get. 

Or ravish from the Marchants; let him set 

His Ores together; let him vainely boast 

Of spices snatch'd from the Canary coast. 

The Gummes of ^gypt, of the Tyrian fleece 105 

Died in his Native purple, with what Greece, 

Colchos, Arabia, or proud China yeilds, 

With all the Metals in Guiana feilds. 

When this has set all forth to boast his pride 

In various pompe this other brings his Bride, no 

And rie be judg'd by all judicious eyes. 

If shee alone prove not the richer prize. 

O let not death have power their Love to sever! 

Let them both love, and live and die together. 

O let their beds be chast, and banish thence 115 

As well all lealousies, as all offence! 

For some men I have known, whose wives have been 

As chast as Ice: such as were never seen 

In wanton dalliance, such as untill death 

Never smelt any, but their husbands breath. 120 

Yet the Good-man still dream'd of homes, still fearing 

His forhead would grow harder; still appearing 

(loi) Love; '38. (no) pompe, '38. (114) live] live, '40, ff. 



POEMS 123 

To his own fancy, bull, or stagge, or more. 

Or Oxe at least, that was an Asse before. 

If shee would have new cloaths, he streight will feare 

Shee loves a Taylour; if shee sad appeare 126 

He guesses soone it is 'cause he's at home; 

If jocund, sure shee has some freind to come. 

If shee be sick, he thinkes no greife shee felt, 

But wishes all Physitians had been guelt. 130 

But aske her how shee does, sets him a swearing. 

Feeling her pulse, is love tricks past the bearing. 

Poore wretched wife, shee cannot looke a wry 

But without doubt 'tis flat adultery. 

And jealous wives there be, that are afraid 135 

To entertaine a handsome Chamber-maid. 
Farre, farre from them be all such thoughts I pray. 
Let their Loves prove eternall, and no day 
Adde date to their affections, grant (6 Queene) 
Their Loves like nuptiall bayes be alwaies greene. 140 

And also grant But here shee bid me stay, 

For well shee knew what I had else to say. 

I ask'd no more, wish'd her hold on her race 

To joyne their hands, and send them night apace. 

Shee smil'd to heare what I in sport did say, 145 

So whip'd her doves and smiling rid away. 

(131) set '38. (13s) Not indented in '40, ff. 



To M^ Feltham on his booke of Resolves. 

IN this unconstant Age when all mens minds 
In various change strive to outvie the winds. 
When no man sets his foot upon the square, 
But treads on globes and circles; when we are 
The Apes of Fortune, and desire to bee 5 



124 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Revolved on as fickle wheeles as shee. 

As if the planets, that our rulers are, 

Made the soules motion too irregular. 

When minds change oftner then the Greek could dream, 

That made the Metempseucos'd soule his theame; lo 

Yea oft to beastly formes: when truth to say 

Moons change but once a month, we twice a day. 

When none resolves but to be rich, and ill; 

Or else resolves to be irresolute still. 

In such a tide of minds, that every houre ij 

Doe ebbe and flow; by what inspiring power, 

By what instinct of grace I cannot tell, 

Dost thou resolve so much, and yet so well? 

While foolish men whose reason is their sence, 

Still wander in the worlds circumference: 20 

Thou holding passions raines with strictest hand 

Dost firme and fixed in the Center stand. 

Thence thou art setled, others while they tend 

To rove about the circle find no end. 

Thy booke I read, and read it with delight, 25 

Resolving so to live as thou dost wright. 

And yet I guesse thy life thy booke produces, 

And but expresses thy peculiar uses. 

Thy manners dictate, thence thy writing came, 

So Lesbians by their worke their rules doe frame, 30 

Not by the rules the worke; thy life had been 

Patterne enough, had it of all been seen. 

Without a book; books make the difi^erence here, 

In them thou liv'st the same but every where. 

(6) Resolved '40, ff. (26) write '40, fF. 

(16) flow, '43, ff. (30) works '40, '43, '52. 

(20) wandring '43, ff. (32) of] at '52. 

(21) Thou] Though '52. (33) ;] ? '52. 
(23) other-while '43, '52, '64. 



POEMS 125 

And this I guesse, though th'art unknown to me, 35 
By thy chast writing; else it could not bee 
(Dissemble ne're so well) but here and there 
Some tokens of that plague would soone appeare; 
Oft lurking in the skin a secret gout 
In books would sometimes blister, and breake out. 40 
Contagious sinnes in which men take delight 
Must needs infect the paper when they write. 

But let the curious eyes of Lynceus look 
Through every nerve, and sinew of this book. 
Of which 'tis full: let the most diligent mind 45 

Prie thorough it, each sentence he shall find 
Season'd with chast, not with an itching salt, 
More savouring of the Lampe, then of the malt. 
But now too many thinke no wit divine, 
None worthy life, but whose luxurious line 50 

Can ravish Virgins thoughts. And is it fit 
To make a pandar, or a baud of wit? 
But tell 'em of it, in contempt they look. 
And aske in scorne if you would geld their book. 
As if th' effeminate braine could nothing doe 55 

That should be chast, and yet be masculine too. 
Such books as these (as they themselves indeed 
Truly confesse) men doe not praise but read. 
Such idle books, which if perchance they can 
Better the braine, yet they corrupt the man. 60 

Thou hast not one bad line so lustful! bred 
As to dye maid, or Matrons cheeke in red. 
Thy modest wit, and witty honest letter 
Make both at once my wit, and me the better. 

(54) their] the '40, ff. (56) masc'line '64, '68. 

(55) th'] the '68. (64) Makes '38. 



126 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Thy book a Garden is, and helps us most 65 

To regaine that which wee in Adam lost. 

Where on the Tree of knowledge wee may feed, 

But such as no forbidden fruits doth breed. 

Whose leaves like those whence Eve her coat did frame. 

Serve not to cover, but to cure our shame. 70 

Fraught with all flowers, not only such as grows 

To please the eye, or to delight the nose. 

But such as may redeeme lost healths againe, 

And store of Hellebore to purge the braine. 

Such as would cure the surfet man did take 75 

From Adams Apples: such as faine would make 

Mans second Paradise, in which should bee 

The fruits of life, but no forbidden Tree. 

It is a Garden; ha, I thus did say: 

And maids, and Matrons blushing runne away. 80 

But maids reenter these chast pleasing bowers; 

Chast Matrons here gather the purest flowers. 

Feare not: from this pure Garden doe not flye. 

In it doth no obsceane Priapus lye. 

This is an Eden where no serpents bee 85 

To tempt the womans imbecillitie. 

These lines rich sap the fruit to heaven doth raise; 

Nor doth the Cinnamon barke deserve lesse praise, 

I meane the stile, being pure and strong and round, 

Not long but Pythy: being short breath'd, but sound. 

Such as the grave, acute, wise Seneca sings, 91 

That best of Tutours to the worst of kings. 

Not long and empty; lofty but not proud; 

Subtle but sweet, high but without a cloud. 

Well setled full of nerves, in breife 'tis such 95 

That in a little hath comprized much, 

(6s) helpe '38. (79) ha"38. (85) bee; '38. (92) Tutour '38. 



POEMS 127 

Like th' Iliads in a Nutshell: And I say 

Thus much for stile; though truth should not bee gay 

In strumpets glittering robes, yet ne'rethelesse 

Shee well deserves a Matrons comelinesse. 100 

Being too brave shee would our fancies glut; 

But we should loath her being too much the slut. 

The reasonable soule from heaven obtained 

The best of bodies; and that man hath gain'd 

A double praise, whose noble vertues are loj 

Like to the face, in soule and body faire. 

Who then would have a noble sentence clad 

In russet-thread-bare words, is full as mad 

As if Apelles should so fondly dote, 

As to paint Venus in old Baucys coat. no 

They erre that would bring stile so basely under; 

The lofty language of the Law was thunder. 

The wisest 'pothecary knows 'tis skill 

Neatly to candy o're the wholesome pill. 

Best Physique then, when gall with sugar meets, 115 

Tempting Absinthian bitternesse with sweets. 

Such is thy sentence, such thy stile, being read. 

Men see them both together happ'ly wed. 

And so resolve to keepe them wed, as we 

Resolve to give them to posteritie. 120 

'Mongst thy resolves put my resolves in too; 

Resolve who's will, thus I resolve to doe: 

That should my errours choose anothers line 

Whereby to write, I meane to live by thine. 

(98) gay.' 38. (ll6) Asbinthian '38 sweats '68. 

(107) nobler '52. (122) whose '52. 

(108) russet thread-bare '68. 



128 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



In Natalem Augustissimi Principis Caroli. 

Thy first birth Mary was unto a tombe, 

And sad Lucina cheated thy blest wombe. 

To heav'n thou then wert fruitfull, now to earth, 

That canst give Saints as well as Kings a birth. 

(3) thou wert '40, fit. 



Vpon his Picture. 

WHen age hath made me what I am not now; 
And every wrinckle tels me where the plow 
Of time hath furrowed; when an Ice shalt 
flow 
Through every vein, and all my head wear snow: 
When death displayes his coldnesse in my cheeke, 5 
And I, my selfe in my owne Picture seeke. 
Not finding what I am, but what I was; 
In doubt which to beleive, this, or my glasse: 
Yet though I alter, this remaines the same 
As it was drawne, retaines the primitive frame, 10 
And first complexion; here will still be seen 
Blood on the cheeke, and Downe upon the chin. 
Here the smooth brow will stay, the lively eye, 
The ruddy Lip, and haire of youthfull dye. 
Behold what frailty we in man may see, 15 

Whose Shaddow is lesse given to change then hee. 

(4) wear] be '40, '43, '52, '68 be-snow '64. 



POEMS 129 

An Ode to M^ Anthony Stafford to hasten 
him into the country. 



C 



|Ome spurre away, 
I have no patience for a longer stay; 

But must goe downe, 
And leave the chargeable noise of this great Towne. 
I will the country see, 5 

Where old simplicity, 
Though hid in gray 
Doth looke more gay 
Then foppery in plush and scarlat clad. 

Farewell you City-wits that are 10 

Almost at Civill warre; 
'Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows 
mad. 

More of my dayes 
I will not spend to gaine an Idiots praise; 

Or to make sport 15 

For some slight Punie of the Innes of Court. 
Then worthy Stafford say 
How shall we spend the day. 
With what delights 
Shorten the nights? 20 

When from this tumult we are got secure; 
Where mirth with all her freedome goes 
Yet shall no finger loose; 
Where every word is thought, and every thought is 
pure. 

(12) grows] growe '40. (18) J. '38, 



I30 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

There from the tree 25 

Wee'l cherries plucke, and pick the strawbery. 

And every day 
Go see the wholesome Country Girles make hay. 
Whose browne hath lovlier grace, 

Then any painted face, 30 

That I doe know 
Hide-Parke can show. 
Where I had rather gaine a kisse then meet 
(Though some of them in greater state 

Might court my love with plate) 35 

The beauties of the CheapCy and wives of Lumbardstreet. 

But thinke upon 
Some other pleasures, these to me are none. 

Why doe I prate 
Of woemen, that are things against my fate? 40 

I never meane to wed, 
That torture to my bed. 
My Muse is shee 
My Love shall bee. 
Let Clownes get wealth, and heires; when I am gone, 
And the great Bugbeare grisly death 46 

Shall take this idle breath 
If I a Poem leave, that Poem is my Sonne. 

Of this, no more; 
Wee'l rather tast the bright Pomona s store. 50 

No fruit shall scape 
Our pallats, from the damsen, to the grape. 
Then full we'l seek a shade. 
And heare what musique's made; 

(29) Whose] whose '38. hath] and '68. 
(34-S) No parentheses in '38. (37) upon. '38. (40) ?] om. '38. 



POEMS 131 

How Philomell 55 

Her tale doth tell: 
And how the other Birds doe fill the quire; 

The Thrush and Blackbird lend their throats 
Warbling melodious notes; 
Wee will all sports enjoy, which others but desire. 60 

Ours is the skie, 
Where at what fowle we please our Hauke shall flye; 

Nor will we spare 
To hunt the crafty foxe, or timorous hare; 

But let our hounds runne loose 65 

In any ground they'l choose, 
The Bucke shall fall, 
The stagge and all: 
Our pleasures must from their owne warrants bee. 
For to my Muse, if not to mee, 70 

I'me sure all game is free; 
Heaven, Earth, are all but parts of her great Royalty. 

And when we meane 
To tast of Bacchus blessings now and then, 

And drinke by stealth 75 

A cup or two to noble Barkleys health, 
rie take my pipe and try 
The Phrygian melody; 

Which he that heares 
Lets through his eares 80 

A madnesse to distemper all the braine. 
Then I another pipe will take 
And Doriqiie musique make. 
To Civilize with graver notes our wits againe. 

(58) Black-birds '52. (62) Whereat '38, '40, '43, '52. 

(59) Warbling] warbling '38. (84) greater '43, ff. 



132 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



An answer to M'^ Ben lohnson's Ode, to per- 
swade him not to leave the stage. 



B 



En doe not leave the stage 
Cause 'tis a loathsome age; 
For Pride, and Impudence will grow too bold, 

When they shall heare it told 
They frighted thee: stand high as is thy cause, 5 

Their hisse is thy applause. 

More just were thy disdaine. 

Had they approv'd thy vaine. 
So thou for them, and they for thee were borne, 
They to incense, and thou as much to scorne. 10 

Wilt thou engrosse thy store 
Of wheat, and powre no more, 

Because their Bacon-braines have such a tast 
As more delight in mast? 

No; set 'em forth a board of dainties, full 15 

As thy best Muse can cull; 
While they the while doe pine 
And thirst, midst all their wine. 

What greater plague can hell it selfe devise. 

Then to be willing thus to tantalize.? 20 

Thou canst not find them stufFe 
That will be bad enough 
To please their pallats; let 'em thine refuse 
For some Pye-corner Muse; 

(8) appov'd '38. (23) thine] then '68. (24) Pye-corners '68. 



POEMS 133 

Shee is to faire an hostesse, 'twere a sinne 25 

For them to like thine Inne: 

'Twas made to entertaine, 

Guests of a nobler straine, 
Yet if they will have any of thy store, 
Give 'em some scraps, and send them from thy dore. 30 

And let those things in plush, 
'Till they be taught to blush 

Like what they will, and more contented bee 
With what Broome swept from thee. 

I know thy worth, and that thy lofty straines 35 

Write not to clothes but Braines: 
But thy great spleene doth rise 
Cause moles will have no eyes; 

This only in my Ben, I faulty find 

He's angry, they'le not see him that are blind. 40 

Why should the Scene be Mute 

Cause thou canst touch a Lute 
And string thy Horace? let each Muse of nine 

Claime thee, and say thou art mine. 
'Twer fond to let all other flames expire 45 

To sitt by Pindar's fire: 

For by so strange neglect, 

I should my selfe suspect 
The Palsie were as well, thy braines disease; 
If they could shake thy Muse which way they please. 50 

And though thou well canst sing. 
The glories of thy King; 
And on the wings of verse his chariot beare 
To heaven, and fixe it there: 

(36) cloths '40 Cloaths '43, ff. (42) a] my '43, ff. 



134 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Yet let thy Muse as well some raptures raise, 55 

To please him, as to praise. 

I would not have thee choose 

Only a treble Muse; 
But have this envious, ignorant Age to know. 
Thou that canst sing so high, canst reach as low. 60 



A Dialogue. Thirsts. Lalage. 



M 



Th. "]\ ^P Y Lalage when I behold 

So great a cold, 
And not a spark of heat in thy desire, 
I wonder what strange power of thine 

Kindles in mine 5 
So bright a flame, and such a burning fire. 
Lalag. Can Thirsts in Philosophy 

A Truant bee. 
And not have learn'd the power of the Sun? 
How he to sublunary things, 10 

A fervour brings. 
Yet in himselfe is subject unto none.? 
Th. But why within thy eyes appeare 

Never a teare. 
That cause from mine perpetuall showres to 
fall? IS 

La. Foole *tis the power of fire you know 

To melt the snow, 
Yet has no moisture in it selfe at all. 
Th. How can I be, deare Virgin show, 

Both fire and snow? 20 

(3) thy] my '68. (ll) favour '38. 

(9) Son? '43 Son; '52. 



POEMS 135 

Doe you that are the cause the reason tell; 
More then miracle to me 

It seemes to be, 
That so much heate with so much cold 
should dwell. 
La. The reason I will render thee; 25 

Why both should bee. 
Audacious Thirsts in thy love too bold, 
'Cause thy sawcinesse durst aspire 

To such a fire. 
Thy love is hot; but 'tis thy hope is cold. 30 
Th. Let pitty move thy gentle brest 

To one opprest; 
This way, or that, give ease to my desire; 
And either let Loves fire be lost 

In hopes cold frost, 35 
Or hopes cold frost be warm'd in loves quick 
fire. 
La. O neither Boy; neither of these 

Shall worke thy ease, 
lie pay thy rashnesse with immortal paine. 
As hope doth strive to freeze thy flame, 40 

Love melts the same: 
As Love doth melt it, Hope doth freez't again. 
Th. Come gentle swaines lend me a groane 

To ease my moane. 
Chorus. Ah cruell Love how great a power is thine ?45 
Vnder the Poles although we lye 

Thou mak'st us frye: 
And thou canst make us freeze beneath the line. 

I have arranged the whole poem in regard to speakers names, etc., in the same 
manner as is the full page of the text in '38. The half pages preceding and fol- 
lowing this page are more irregular. 

(42) .] om, '38. (43) Th.2 Placed before line 42 in '38. 



136 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



A Dialogue betwixt a Nymph and a Shepheard. 

Nymp: Hy sigh you swain ? this passion is 

not common; 
I'st for your kids, or Lambkins? 
Sh: For a woman. 

Nymp: How faire is shee that on so sage a brow 

Prints lowring looks? 
Shep: lust such a toy as thou. 

Nymp: Is shee a maid? S 

Sh: What man can answer that? 

Nymp: Or widdow? 
Sh: No. 

Nym: What then? 

Sh: I know not what. 

Saint-Hke shee lookes, a Syren if shee sing. 

Her eyes are starres, her mind is everything. 
Nymp: If she he fickle, Shepheard leave to wooe 

Or fancy mee. 
Sh: No thou art woman too; 10 

Nymp: But I am constant. 

Sh: Then thou art not faire. 

Nymp: Bright as the morning. 

Sh: Wavering as the Ayre. 

Nymp: What grows upon this cheeke? 
Sh: A pure Carnation. 

Nym: Come tast a kisse. 
Sh: O sweet, 6 sweet Temptation! 

(l) comon; '38. (12) as air '68. 

(6) What] what '38. (14) a] and '52. 



POEMS 137 

Cbo: Ah Love, and canst thou never loose the 

feild? 15 

Where Cupid layes a selge, the towne must 

yeild. 
He warmes the chiUier blood with glowing fire, 
And thaws the Icy frost of cold desire. 

(16) a] the '40 ff. 



A Pastorall Ode. 



C 



Oy Coelia dost thou see 
Ypn hollow mountaine tottering o're the plaine, 

O're which a fatall Tree 
With treacherous shade betrayes the sleepy swaine? 

Beneath it is a Cell, 5 

As full of horrour as my brest of care, 

Ruine therein might dwell; 
As a fit roome for guilt and black dispaire. 

Thence will I headlong throw 
This wretched weight, this heape of misery; 10 

And in the dust below, 
Bury my Carcasse, and the thought of thee: 

Which when I finish'd have, 
O hate me dead, as thou hast done alive; 

And come not neare my grave 15 
Least I take heat from thee, and so revive. 

(i) COy] GO '68. (lo) wight '68. (12) thoughts '68. 



138 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



A Song. 

MVsick thou Queene of soules, get up and string 
Thy pow'rful Lute, and some sad requiem 
sing, 
Till Rocks requite thy Eccho with a groane: 
And the dull clifts repeate the duller tone: 
Then on a suddaine with a nimble hand 5 

Runne gently o're the Chordes, and so command 
The Pine to dance, the Oake his Roots forgoe, 
The holme and aged Elme to foot it too; 
Mirtles shall caper, lofty Cedars runne; 
And call the Courtly Palme to make up one; 10 

Then in the midst of all their lolly traine, 
Strike a sad note; and fixe 'em Trees againe. 



The Song of Discord. 

LEt Linus and Amphions lute, 
With Orpheus citterne now be mute. 
The harshest voice the sweetest note; 
The Raven has the choicest throate. 
A set of Frogs a quire for mee, s 

The Mandrake shall the Chaunter bee. 
Where neither voice, nor tunes agree; 
This is discords Harmonie. 
Thus had Orpheus learn'd to play. 
The following Trees had run away. 10 



POEMS 139 



To one Overhearing his private discourse. 

I Wonder not my Lceda farre can see, 
Since for her eyes shee might an Eagle bee, 
And dare the Sun; but that shee heares so well 
As that shee could my private whisperings tell, 
I stand amaz'd; her eares are not so long, 5 

That they could reach my words; hence then it 
sprung: 
Love overhearing fled to her bright eare, 
Glad he had got a tale to whisper there. 



Epigram: 47 ex decimo Libro Martialis. 

THese are things that being possest 
Will make a life that's truly blest: 
Estate bequeath'd, not got with toyle; 
A good hot fire, a gratefull soyle. 
No strife, warm clothes, a quiet soule, 
A strength intire, a body whole. 
Prudent simplicity, equall freinds, 
A diet that no Art commends. 
A night not drunke, and yet secure; 
A bed not sad, yet chast and pure. 
Long sleepes to make the nights but short, 
A will be to but what thou art. 
Naught rather choose; contented lye, 
And neither feare, nor wish to dye. 

Martialis, '38. (5) cloths '40, '43 cloaths '52, ff. 

(3) with] by '68. (10) not] nor '43. 



I40 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



To the Vertuous and noble Lady, the Lady Cotton. 

TIs not to force more teares from your sad eye, 
That we write thus; that were a Piety 
Turn'd guilt and sinne; we only beg to come, 
And pay due tribute to his sacred tombe. 
The muses did divide his Love with you, 5 

And justly therefore may be mourners too. 
Instead of Cypresse, they have brought fresh Baies 
To crowne his Vrne, and every dirge is Praise. 
But since with him the learned tongues are gone, 
Necessity here makes us use our owne. 10 

Read in his praise your owne, you cannot misse; 
For he was but our Wonder, you were his. 

(8) Urin, '52 is] his '52, ff. 

In the Parentalia this poem is signed Tho. Randolph. 



An Elegie on the death of that Renowned and 

Noble Knight Sir Rowland Cotton 

of Bellaport in Shropshire 

Rich as was Cottons worth, I wish each line; 
And every verse I breath like him, a Mine. 
That by his vertues might created bee 
A new strange miracle, wealth in Poetrie. 
But that invention cannot sure be poore, 5 

That but relates a part of his large store. 
His youth began, as when the Sun doth rise 
Without a Cloud, and clearly trots the skies. 

Simply An Elegie. in Par. 

(l) so in Parentalia and '40, ff. Cottons '38. 



POEMS 141 

And whereas other youths commended bee 

From conceived Hopes, his was maturitie. 10 

Where other springs boast blossoms fairely blowne, 

His was a harvest, and had fruits full growne. 

So that he seem'd a Nestor here to raigne 

In wisdome, ^son-Wke, turn'd young againe. 

This, Royall Henry, whose majestique eye 15 

Saw thorough men, did from his court descrye, 

And thither call'd him, and then fixed him there 

One of the prime starres in his glorious spheare. 

And (Princely Master) witnesse this with mee, 

He liv'd not there to serve himselfe but thee. 20 

No Silke-worme Courtier, such as study there 

First how to get their cloaths, then how to weare. 

And though in favour high, he ne're was known 

To promote others suits to pay for's own. 

He valued more his Master, and knew well, 25 

To use his love was noble; base to sell. 

Many there be live in the Court we know 

To serve for Pageants, and make up the show; 

And are not servicable there at all 

But now and then at some great Festivall. 30 

He serv'd for nobler use, the secret cares 

Of common-wealths, and mystique State affaires; 

And when great Henry did his Maxims heare, 

He wore him as a lewell in his Eare. 

Yet short he came not, nay he all out-went 35 

In what some call a Courtiers complement. 

An Active body that in subtile wise 

Turnes pliable to any exercise. 

(10) Hopes; '38. _ (3S) outwent Par. 

{19) Mager '68. " (38) excuse '43, *S2. 

(21) No] So 'S2 Courtiers '68. 



142 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

For when he leapt, the people dar'd to say 

He was borne all of fire, and wore no clay. 40 

Which was the cause too that he wrestled so, 

'Tis not fires nature to be kept below. 

His course he so perform'd with nimble pace, 

The time was not perceiv'd measured the race. 

As it were true that some late Artists say, 45 

The Earth mov'd too, and run the other way. 

All so soone finish'd, when the match was wonne 

The Gazers by ask'd why they not begunne. 

When he in masque us'd his harmonious feet, 

The Sphears could not in comelier order meet; 50 

Nor move more gracefuU, whether they advance 

Their measures forward, or retire their dance. 

There be have seene him in our Henry's Court 

The glory and the envy of that sport. 

And carping like a constellation rise, 55 

Having fixt upon him all the Ladies eyes. 

But these in him I would not vertues call. 
But that the world must know, that he had all. 
When Henry dy'd (our universall woe) 
Willing was Cotton to dye with him too. 60 

And as neare death he came as neare could bee; 
Himselfe he buried in obscuritie, 
Entomb'd within his study wals, and there 
Only the Dead his conversation were. 
Yet was he not alone; for every day 65 

Each Muse came thither with her sprig of Bay. 
The Graces round about him did appeare, 
The Genii of all Nations all met there. 

(49) Musick '68. (53) Henries Par. 

(56) fix'd Par. upon] on '64, '68. 

(66) Muse'] not in italics in Par. 

(67), (68) Graces and Genii not in italics in Par. 



POEMS 143 

And while immur'd he sat thus close at home, 

To him the wealth of all the world did come. 70 

He had a language to salute the Sunne, 

Where he unharnest, and where's teame begunne: 

The tongues of all the East to him were known 

As Naturall, as they were borne his own. 

Which from his mouth so sweetly did intice, 75 

As with their language he had mix'd their spice. 

In Greeke so fluent, that with it compare 

Th' Athenian Olives, and they saplesse are. 

Rome did submit her Fasces, and confesse 

Her Tully might talke more, and yet speake lesse. 80 

All Sciences were lodg'd in his large brest. 

And in that Pallace thought themselves so blest 

They never meant to part, but he should bee 

Sole Monarch, and dissolve their Heptarchie. 

But 6 how vaine is mans fraile Harmonic! 85 

We all are swannes, he that sings best must die. 

Death knowledge nothing makes, when we come there, 

We need no Language, nor Interpreter. 

Who would not laugh at him now, that should seeke 

In Cottons Vrne for Hebrew or for Greeke? 90 

But his more heav'nly graces with him yet 

Live constant, and about him circled sit 

A bright Retinue, and on each falls downe 

A robe of Glory, and on each a Crowne. 

Then Madam (though you have a losse sustain'd 
Both infinite, and ne're to be regain'd 96 

Here in this world) dry your sad eyes, once more 
You shall againe enter the Nuptiall dore 

(79) Fasces'] not in Italics in Par. 

(88) no] nor Par. 

(91) heavenly Par. 

(95) Par. leaves a line blank between 94 and 95. 



144 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

A sprightly bride; where you shall clothed bee 

In garments weav'd of Immortalitie. 

Nor greive because he left you not a Sonne, 

To Image Cotton forth now he is gone. 

For it had been a wrong to his great Name 

T'have liv'd in any thing but Heaven, and Fame. 

(102) Cotton Par. and '40, fF. Cotton '38. 

Poem signed The: Randolph in Par. 



Ausonii Epigram 38. 

SHee which would not I would choose: 
Shee which would I would refuse. 
Venus could my mind but tame; 
But not satisfie the same. 

Inticements offer'd I despise, S 

And deny'd I slightly prize. 
I would neither glut my mind. 
Nor yet too much torment find. 
Twice girt Diana doth not take mee, 
Nor Venus naked joyfuU make mee. 10 

The first no pleasure hath to joy mee, 
And the last enough to cloy mee. 
But a crafty wench I'de have 
That can sell the act I crave. 

And joyne at once in me these two, 15 

I will, and yet I will not doe. 

(6) This line is om. in '68. 



POEMS 145 



On the Death of a Nightingale. 

GOe solitary wood, and henceforth be 
Acquainted with no other Harmonic, 
Then the Pyes chattering, or the shreekingnote 
Of bodeing Owles, and fatall Ravens throate. 
Thy sweetest Chanters dead, that warbled forth 5 
Layes, that might tempests calme, and still the North; 
And call downe Angels from their glorious Spheare 
To heare her Songs, and learne new Anthems there. 
That soule is fled, and to Elisium gone; 
Thou a poore desert left; goe then and runne, 10 

Begge there to stand a grove, and if shee please 
To sing againe beneath thy shadowy Trees; 
The soules of happy Lovers crown'd with blisses 
Shall flock about thee, and keepe time with kisses. 

(9) £/jVJon '43, '52, '64. (11) stand] want '68. 



Vpon the report of the King of Swedens Death. 

I'Le not beleive't; if fate should be so crosse 
Nature would not be silent of her losse. 
Can he be dead, and no portents appeare? 
No pale Ecclipse of th' sun to let us feare 
What we should suff"er, and before his light 
Put out, the world inveloped in Night? 
What thundring torrents the flush'd welkin tare? 
What apparition kill'd him in the aire? 
When Ccesar dy'd there were convulsion fits; 
And nature seem'd to run out of her wits. 

(7) tear? '68. 



146 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

At that sad object Tybers bosome swell'd, 

And scarce from drowning all, by love withheld. 

And shall we give this mighty Conquerour 

That in a great and a more holy warre, 

Was pulling downe the Empire which he reard, 15 

A fall unmourn'd of Nature and unfear'd; 

A death (unlesse the league of heav'n withstood) 

Lesse wept then with an universall flood? 

If I had seene a Comet in the aire 

With glorious eye, and bright disheveld haire, 20 

And on a suddaine with his gilded traine 

Drop downe; I should have said that Sweden s slaine. 

Shot like that starre; or if the earth had shooke 

Like a weake floore, the falling roofe had broke; 

I should have said the mighty King is gone; 25 

Fel'd as the tallest tree in Libanon. 

Alasse if he were dead; we need no post, 

Uery instinct would tell us what we lost. 

And a chill damp (as at the generall doome) 

Creepe through each brest and we should know for 

whome. 30 

His German conquests are not yet compleat. 
And when they are, ther's more remaining yet. 
The world is full of sin, not every Land 
O're growne with schisme hath felt his purging hand. 
The Pope is not confounded, and the Turke, 35 

Nor was he sure design'd for a lesse worke. 
But if our sinnes have stop'd him in the source, 
In mid'st Careere of his victorious course. 
And heaven would trust the dulnesse of our sence 
So farre, not to prepare us with portents. 40 

(27) A lass '68 no] not '68. (33) not] nor '38 and '68. 

(28) Every '68 tn/«jnf«'40, '43, '52. (36) He '40. 



POEMS 147 



*Tis we have that the losse, and he hath caught 
His heav'nly garland e're his worke be wrought. 
But I, before I'le undertake to greive 
So great a losse, will choose not to beleive. 



(42) be] he '52. 



On S^ Robert Cotton the Antiquary. 

Posterity hath many fates bemoan'd, 
But ages long since past for thee have groan'd. 
Times Trophies thou didst rescue from the grave 
Who in thy death a second buriall have. 
Cotton, deaths conquest now compleat I see, 
Who ne're had vanquish'd all things but in thee. 



An Elegie 

HEav'n knowe my Love to thee, fed on desires 
So hallowed, and unmixt with vulgar fires, 
As are the purest beams shot from the Sun 
At his full height; and the devotion 
Of dying Martyrs could not burne more cleare, j 

Nor Innocence in her first robes appeare 
Whiter then our Affections; they did show 
Like frost forc'd out of flames, and fire from snow. 
So pure, the Phoenix when shee did refine 
Her age to youth, borrowed no flames but mine. lo 
But now my daies o' recast, for I have now 
Drawne Anger like a tempest o're the brow 

(4) devotion. '38. 



148 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Of my faire Mistresse; those your glorious eyes 

Whence I was wont to see my day starre rise, 

Threat Hke revengefull Meteors, and I feele 15 

My torment, and my guilt double my hell. 

'Twas a mistake, and might have veniall been, 

Done to another, but it was made sin, 

And justly Mortall too by troubling Thee, 

Slight wrongs are treasons done to Majestie. 20 

O all yee blest Ghosts of deceased Loves, 

That new live Sainted in th' Elisian groves 

Mediate for mercy for me; at her shrine 

Meet in full quire, and joyne your praiers with mine. 

Conjure her by the merits of your kisses, 25 

By your past sufferings and present blisses; 

Conjure her by your mutuall hopes, and feares; 

By all your intermixed sighes, and teares, 

To plead my pardon; goe to her and tell 

That you will walke the guardian sentinell, 30 

My soules safe Genii; that she need not feare 

A mutinous thought, or one close rebell there. 

But what needs that, when shee alone sits there 

Sole Angell of that Orbe? in her own spheare 

Alone shee sits, and can secure it free 35 

From all irregular motions, only shee 

Can give the balsome that must cure this sore; 

And the sweet Antidote to sin no more. 



(22) the' Elisian '43- (34) ?] ; '38. 

(26) ;] . '38. (38) the] thee '68. 



POEMS 149 



H' 'Ei;0i;oOs 17 iroirjcTLs rj jxavLKOv'. Arist. 



F 



Rom witty men and mad 
All Poetry conception had. 



No sires but these will Poetry admit, 
Madnesse or wit. 

This definition Poetry doth fit, 

It is a witty madnesse, or mad wit. 

Only these two Poetique heat admits, 
A witty man, or one that's out oPs wits. 

'''EiWpvoiiS '38. 11. 2 and 3 not separated in '38. 

Arist.'] om. '43, '52. (7) Poetiques '52. 



Ad Amicum Litigantem. 

WOuld you commence a Poet S'", and be 
A graduat in the thredbare mysterie.? 
The Oxes ford will no man thither bring, 
Where the horse hoofe rais'd the Pegasian spring. 
Nor will the bridge through which low Cham doth 
runne, 5 

Direct you to the bankes of Helicon. 
If in that art you meane to take degrees. 
Bedlam's the best of universities. 
There study it, and when you would no more 
A Poet be, goe drinke some Hellebore, 10 

Which drugge when I had tasted, soone I left 
The bare Parnassus, and the barren cleft; 



I50 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And can no more one of their Nation bee, 

Because recover'd of my lunacie. 

But you may then succeed me in my place 15 

Of Poet, no pretence to make your grace 

Denied you, for you goe to law, 'tis said; 

And then 'tis ta'ne for granted you are mad. 



In Corydonem & Corinnam. 

AH wretch in thy Corinnas love unblest! 
How strange a fancy doth torment thy brest? 
When shee desires to sport thou saist her nay; 
When shee denyes then thou desir'st to play. 
Love burnes you both. (6 'tis a happy turne!) 5 

But 'tis at severall times love both doth burne. 
When scorching heat hath Corydons heart possest, 
Then raignes a frost in cold Corinnas brest. 
And when a frost in Corydon doth raigne. 
Then is Corinnas brest on fire againe. 10 

Why then with Corydon is it summer prime, 
When with Corinna it is winter time? 
Or why should then Corinnas summer bee 
When it is winter Corydon with thee.f' 
Can Ice from fire, or fire from Ice proceed? 15 

Ah jest not Love is so severe a deed! 
I bid thee not Corydons flame to blow 
Cleane out; nor cleane to melt Corinnas snow. 
Burne both! freeze both! let mutuall Fervour hold 
His and her brest, or his and her's a cold. 20 

(6) doth both '43, '52. 
(17) flane '64. 



POEMS 151 



To one admiring her selje in a Looking-Glasse. 

FAire Lady when you see the Grace 
Of Beauty in your Looking-Glasse: 
A stately forhead, smooth and high, 
And full of Princely Majesty. 

A sparkling eye, no gemme so faire, 5 

Whose lustre dimmes the Cyprian starre. 
A glorious cheeke divinely sweet, 
Wherein both Roses kindly meet. 
A cherry Lip that would entice 

Even Gods to kisse at any price. 10 

You thinke no beauty is so rare 
That with your shaddow might compare. 
That your reflection is alone, 
The thing that men most dote upon. 
Madam, alas your Glasse doth lye, 15 

And you are much deceiv'd; for I 
A beauty know of richer grace, 
(Sweet be not angry) 'tis your face. 
Hence then 6 learne more milde to bee. 
And leave to lay your blame on mee; 20 

If me your reall substance move; 
When you so much your Shaddow Love. 
Wise nature would not let your eye 
Looke on her owne bright majestic; 
Which had you once but gaz'd upon, 25 

You could, except your selfe, love none: 
What then you cannot love, let me. 
That face I can, you cannot see. 

Now you have what to loue, you'l say 
What then is left for me I pray? 30 



152 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

My face sweet hart if it please thee; 
That which you can, I cannot see: 
So either love shall gaine his due, 
Your's sweet in mee, and mine in you. 



An Eglogue occasion d by two Doctors 
disputing upon predestination. 

Corydon. 

HO jolly Thirsis whither in such hast? 
I'st for a wager that you run so fast? 
Or past your houre below yon hawthorne tree 
Does longing Galatea looke for thee? 

Thirsis. 
No Corydon, I heard young Daphnis say 5 

Alexis challeng'd Tityrus to day 
Who best shall sing of Shepheards Art, and praise; 
But harke I heare 'em, listen to their laies. 

Tityrus. 
jilexis read, what means this mistique thing; 
An Ewe I had two lambs at once did bring: 10 

Th* one black as lett; the other white as snow: 
Say in just providence how it could be so? 

Alexis. 
Will you Pans goodnesse therefore partiall call, 
That might as well have given thee none at all? 

Tityrus. 
Were they not both eand by the selfe same Ewe? 15 
How could they merit then so different hue? 

(2) thou run' St '68. (9) mastique '68. 

(3) past] past past '43, '52. (16) merit] ment '43, '52. 



POEMS 153 

Poore lamb alas; and couldst thou, yet unborne, 

Sin to deserve the Guilt of such a scorne? 

Thou hadst not yet fowl'd a religious spring, 

Nor fed on plots of hallowed grasse, to bring 20 

Staines to thy fleece; nor browz'd upon a tree 

Sacred to Pan or Pales Deitie. 

The Gods are ignorant if they not foreknow; 

And knowing, 'tis unjust to use thee so. 

Alexis. 
Tytir with me contend, or Corydon; 25 

But let the Gods, and their high wills alone. 
For in our flocks that freedome challenge wee. 
This kid is sacrific'd, and that goes free. 

Tityrus. 
Freed where you will my Lambs, what boots it us 
To watch, and water, fold, and drive you thus. 30 
This on the barren mountaines flesh can gleane. 
That fed in flowry pastures will be leane. 

Alexis. 
Plow, sowe, and compasse, nothing boots at all, 
Vnlesse the dew upon the Tilth's doe fall. 
So labour sylly Shepheards what wee can, 35 

All's vaine, unlesse a blessing drop from Pan. 

Tityrus. 
Ill thrive thy Ewes if thou these lyes maintaine: 

Alexis. 
And may thy Goats miscarry sawcy swaine. 

Thyrsis. 
Fie, Shepheards fie! while you these strifes begin, 
Here creepes the woolfe; and there the fox gets in. 40 

(18) ?] ! '40, ff. (37) Ewes] Theves '38. 



1 54 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

To your vaine piping on so deepe a reed 

The Lambkins listen, but forget to feed. 

It gentle swains befits of Love to sing, 

How Love left heaven; and heav'ns immortal King, 

His coaeternall Father, O admire, 45 

Love is a Sonne as an ancient as his sire. 

His Mother was a Virgin: how could come 

A birth so great, and from so chast a wombe! 

His cradle was a manger; Shepheards see 

True faith delights in poore simplicitie. 50 

He pres'd no grapes, nor prun'd the fruitfull vine, 

But could of water make a brisker wine. 

Nor did he plow the earth, and to his Barne 

The harvest bring, nor thresh, and grind the Corne. 

Without all these Love could supply our need; 55 

And with five Loaves, five thousand Hungers feed. 

More wonders did he, for all which suppose 

How he was crown'd, with Lilly, or with Rose? 

The winding Ivy, or the glorious Bay, 

Or mirtle, with the which Venus, they say, 60 

Girts her proud temples? Shepheards none of them 

But wore (poore head) a thorny Diadem. 

Feet to the Lame he gave; with which they run 

To worke their Surgeons last destruction. 

The blind from him had eyes; but us'd that light 65 

Like Basylisques to kill him with their sight. 

Lastly he was betray'd (6 sing of this) 

How Love could be betray'd! 'twas with a kisse. 

And then his Innocent hands, and guiltlesse feet 

(44) heav'ns] heavens '43, ff. (46) his] the '68. 

(45) Father. '38. (48) !] >. '43, 'S2. • '68. 
Between il. 50 and 51 Harl. MS. 3357 has the following couplet: 

Deepe Sages, by a Star, his Mansion sought, 

Poore Swaines, by his owne Harbingers were tought. 



POEMS 155 

Were nayl'd unto the Crosse, striving to meet 70 

In his spread armes his spouse, so mild in showe 
He seem'd to court th' Imbraces of his foe. 
Through his pearc'd side, through which a speare was 

sent, 
A torrent of all flowing Balsame went. 
Run Amarillis run: one drop from thence 75 

Cures thy sad soule, and drives all anguish hence. 
Goe sunburnt Thestylis, goe, and repaire 
Thy beauty lost, and be againe made faire. 
Love-sick Amyntas get a Philtrum here. 
To make thee Lovely to thy truly deare. 80 

But coy Licoris take the Pearle from thine. 
And take the bloodshot from Alexis eyne. 
Weare this an Amulet 'gainst all Syrens smiles, 
The stings of snakes, and Teares of Crocodiles. 
Now Love is dead: Oh no, he never dyes; 85 

Three dayes he sleepes, and then againe doth rise 
(Like faire Aurora from the Easterne Bay) 
And with his beams drives all our clouds away: 
This pipe unto our flocks, this sonnet get. 
But hoe, I see the Sun ready to set, 90 

Good night to all; for the great night is come; 
Flocks to your folds and shepheards hye you home! 
To morrow morning, when we all have slept. 
Pan's Cornet's blowne, and the great Sheepshears kept. 

(73-74) and (83-84) These four lines are not in Harl. MS. 33S7. 

(82) Alexis'] Palaemons Harl. MS. 

(83) against '52, '64, '68. 
(85) dead:] lead: '38. 

(92) high you home. '43, '52. 
(94) blowen '43, '52. 



1S6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

An Eglogue to M^ Johnson. 
Tityrus 



v: 



NDER this beech why sits't thou here 

so sad 
Son Damon, that wast erst a joviall lad? 
These groves were wont to Eccho with the sound 
Of thy shrill reed, while every Nymph danc'd 

round. 
Rowse up thy soule, Parnassus mount stands 

high» S 

And must be climb'd with painefuU industrie. 
Damon. You Father on his forked top sit still, 
And see us panting up so steepe a hill; 
But I have broke my reed, and deeply swore 
Never with wax, never to joynt it more. lo 
Tit. Fond boy 'twas rashly done; I meant to 

thee, 
Of all the sons I have, by legacie 
To have bequeath'd my pipe, thee, thee of all, 
I meant it should her second Master call. 
Dam. And doe you thinke I durst presume to 

play IS 

Where Tityrus had worne his lip away! 
Live long thy selfe to tune it; 'tis from thee. 
It has not from it self such Harmony, 
But if we ever such disaster have 
As to compose our Tytirus in his grave; 20 
Yonder upon yon aged Oak, that now 
Old trophies beares on every sacred bow, 

(1) this] his '38. (13) pipe: '68. 

(2) a] om. 'S2. (22) bears, on every sacred bow '40. 



POEMS 157 

We'le hang it up a relique, we will doe it, 
And learned swains shall pay devotion to it. 
Tyt. Canst thou farewell unto the Muses bid ? 25 
Then bees shall loath the Thyme, the new 

wean'd Kid 
Browze on the buds no more; the teeming 

ewes 
Henceforth the tender sallows shall refuse. 
Dam. I by those Ladies now do nothing set; 

Let 'em for me some other servant get: 30 
They shall no more be Mistresses of mine. 
No, though my pipe had hope to equall thine. 
Thine which the floods have stopt their course 

to hear; 
To which the spotted Linx hath lent an eare. 
Which while the severall Ecchoes would 

repeat, 35 

The Musick has been sweet, the Art so great 
That Pan himself amaz'd at thy deep aires, 
Sent thee of his own bowl to drown thy 

cares. 
Of all the Gods Pan doth the Pipe respect. 
The rest unlearned pleasures more affect. 40 
Pan can distinguish what thy Raptures be 
From Bavins loose lascivious Minstralsie, 
Or Mcsvius windy Bagpipe, Mavius, he 
Whose wit is but a Tavern Tympanic. 
If ever I flock of my own doe feed, 45 

My fattest Lambs shall on his Altar bleed. 
Tyt. Two Altars I will build him, and each 

yeare 
Will sacrifice two wel-fed Bullocks there. 

(28) fallows 'S2. 



158 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Two that have horns; that while they butting 

stand 
Strike from their feet a cloud of numerous 

sand. 50 

But what can make thee leave the Muses 

man, 
That such a Patron hast as mighty Pan? 
Whence is thy fury? Did the partiall eare 
Of the rude Vulgar, when they late did heare 
jEgon, and thee contend which best should 

play, 55 

Him Victour deem, and give thy kid away? 
Does Amarillis cause this high despaire? 
Or Galatea s coynesse breed thy care? 
Dam. Neither of these, the Vulgar I contemn; 

Thy pipe not alwaies Tytirus wins with 

them : 60 

And as for Love, in sooth I doe not know 
Whether he wears a bow, and shafts or no. 
Or did I, I a way could quickly find. 
To win the beauteous Galatea's mind. 
Or Amarillis: I to both could send 65 

Apples that with Hesperian fruit contend: 
And on occasion could have quickly guest 
Where two fayr ring-doves built their amorous 

nest. 
Tyt. If none of these, my Damon then aread 69 
What other cause can so much passion 

breed ! 
Dam. Father I will, in those indulgent ears 
I dare unload the burden of my fears. 

(49) horns, '40, ff. (59) these; '68. 

(53) thy] this '43, ff. (68) fairing-doves '68. 



POEMS 159 

The Reapers that with whetted siccles stand. 
Gathering the falHng ears i'th' other hand; 
Though they endure the scorching summers 

heat, 75 

Have yet some wages to allay their sweat: 
The Lopper that doth fell the sturdy Oak 
Labours, yet has good pay for every stroke. 
The Plowman is rewarded: only we 
That sing, are paid with our own melody. 80 
Rich churls have learn't to praise us, and 

admire. 
But have not learn't to think us worth the 

hire. 
So toyling Ants perchance delight to hear 
The summer musique of the Grassopper, 
But after rather let him starve with pain, 85 
Then spare him from their store one single 

grain. 
As when great Imios beauteous Bird displaies 
Her starry tail, the boyes doe run and gaze 
At her proud train; so look they now adaies 
On Poets; and doe think if they but praise, 90 
Or pardon what we sing, enough they doe: 
I, and 'tis well if they doe so much too. 
My rage is swel'd so high I cannot speak it, 
Had I Pans pipe, or thine I now should 

break it! 
Tit. Let moles delight in Earth; Swine dunghils 

rake; 95 

Crows prey on Carrion; Frogs a pleasure take 
In slimy pools; And Niggards wealth admire; 

(74) 'ith' '38, '40, '43, '52. (82) learnt '$2, ff. 

(8i) learnt '43. ff- (83) delight] are like '64, '68. 



l6o THOMAS RANDOLPH 

But we, whose souls are made of purer fire, 
Have other aimes: Who songs for gain hath 

made. 
Has of a hberall Science fram'd a Trade. loo 
Hark how the Nightingale in yonder tree, 
Hid in the boughes, warbles melodiously 
Her various musique forth, while the whole 

Quire 
Of other birds, flock around, and all admire! 
But who rewards her? will the ravenous 

Kite los 

Part with her prey, to pay for her delight? 
Or will the foolish, painted pratling lay 
Now turn'd a hearer, to requite her play 
Lend her a straw? or any of the rest 
Fetch her a feather when she builds her 

nest? no 

Yet sings she ne're the lesse, till every den 
Doe catch at her last notes: And shall I 

then 
His fortunes Damon 'bove my own commend, 
Who can more cheese into the market send? 
Clowns for posterity may cark and care, 115 
That cannot out-live death but in an Heire: 
By more then wealth we propagate our Names, 
That trust not to successions, but our Fames. 
Let hide-bound churls yoak the laborious Oxe, 
Milk hundred goats, and shear a thousand 

flocks; 120 

Plant gainful Orchards, and in silver shine; 
Thou of all fruits should'st only prune the 

Vine: 

(99) Who] whose 's 2. (118) Flames '40. 



POEMS l6l 

Whose fruit being tasted, might erect thy 

brain 
To reach some ravishing, high, and lofty 

strain; 
The double birth of Bacchus to expresse, 125 
First in the grape, the second in the presse. 
And therefore tell me boy, what is't can move 
Thy mind, once fixed on the Muses Love? 
Dam. When I contented liv'd by Chants fair 
streams, 
Without desire to see the prouder Thames^ 130 
I had no flock to care for, but could sit 
Vnder a willow covert, and repeat 
Those deep and learned layes, on every part 
Grounded on judgment, subtilty, and Art, 
That the great Tutour to the greatest King, 
The shepheard of Stagira, us'd to sing: 136 
The shepheard of Stagira, that unfolds 
All natures closet, shows what e're it holds; 
The matter, form, sense, motion, place, and 
measure i39 

Of every thing contain'd in her vast treasure. 
How Elements doe change; What is the cause 
Of Generation; what the Rule and Laws 
The Orbs doe move by; Censures every starre, 
Why this is fixt, and that irregular; 
Knows all the Heavens, as if he had been 
there, i4S 

And help't each Angell turn about her spheare. 
The thirsty pilgrim travelling by land, 
When the feirce Dog-starre doth the day com- 
mand, 

(128) once] being '68. (134) subtil'ty '38. 



l62 THOMJS RANDOLPH 

Half choak't with dust, parch't with the 

soultry heat; 
Tir'd with his journey, and o'recome with 

sweat, 150 

Finding a gentle spring, at her cool brink 
Doth not with more delight sit down and 

drink, 
Then I record his songs: we see a cloud. 
And fearing to be wet, doe run and shroud 
Vnder a bush; when he would sit and tell 155 
The cause that made her mystie wombe to 

swell; 
Why it sometimes in drops of rain doth flow, 
Sometimes dissolves her self in flakes of snow: 
Nor gaz'd he at a Comet, but would frame 
A reason why it wore a beard of flame. 160 
Ah Tytirus, I would with all my heart. 
Even with the best of my carv'd mazers part, 
To hear him as he us'd divinely shew. 
What 'tis that paints the divers-colour'd bow: 
Whence Thunders are discharg'd, whence the 

winds stray, 165 

What foot through heaven hath worn the 

milky way! 
And yet I let this true delight alone, 
Call'd thence to keep the flock of Corydon. 
Ah woe is me, anothers flock to keep; 169 
The care is mine, the master shears the sheep! 
A flock it was that would not keep together; 
A flock that had no fleece, when it came 

hither. 

(153) we see] see '64 seeing '68. (166) ways '43, wayes '52. 

(161) withall '38, '40, '43. 



POEMS 163 

Nor would it learn to listen to my layes, 
For 'twas a flock made up of severall strayes; 
And now I would return to Cham, I hear 175 
A desolation frights the Muses there! 
With rustique swains I mean to spend my 

time 
Teach me there father to preserve my rime. 
Tyt. To morrow morning I will counsel thee, 
Meet me at Faunus Beech; for now you 
see 180 

How larger shadows from the mountains fall, 
And Corydon doth Damon, Damon, call. 
Damon, 'tis time my flock were in the fold. 
More then high time; did you not erst behold 
How Hesperus above yon clouds appear'd, 185 
Hesperus leading forth his beauteous heard? 

(178) rime.] time. '68. 



A Pastorall Courtship. 

BEhold these woods, and mark my Sweet 
How all the boughes together meet! 
The Cedar his faire arms displayes. 
And mixes branches with the Bayes. 
The lofty Pine deignes to descend, 5 

And sturdy Oaks doe gently bend. 
One with another subt'ly weaves 
Into one loom their various leaves; 
As all ambitious were to be 
Mine and my Phyllis canopie! 10 

(2) the] tliese '52. 



164 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Let's enter, and discourse our Loves; 
These are, my Dear, no tell-tale groves! 
There dwell no Pyes, nor Parrats there, 
To prate again the words they heare. 
Nor babling Eccho, that will tell 15 

The neighbouring hills one syllable. 

Being enter'd let's together lye, 
Twin'd like the Zodiaks Gemini/ 
How soon the flowers doe sweeter smell? 
And all with emulation swell, 20 

To be thy pillow? These for thee 
Were meant a bed, and thou for me; 
And I may with as just esteem 
Presse thee, as thou maist lye on them. 
And why so coy? What dost thou feare? 25 

There lurks no speckled Serpent here. 
No Venomous snake makes this his rode, 
No Canker, nor the loathsome toad. 
And yon poor spider on the tree. 

Thy spinster will, no poisner be. 30 

There is no Frog to leap, and fright 
Thee from my arms, and break delight; 
Nor snail that o're thy coat shall trace, 
And leave behind a slimy lace. 

This is the hallowed shrine of Love, 35 

No wasp nor hornet haunts this grove, 
Nor pismire to make pimples rise, 
Vpon thy smooth and ivory thighes. 
No danger in these shades doth lye. 
Nothing that wears a sting, but I: 40 

And in it doth no venome dwell. 
Although perchance it make thee swell. 

(11) lets '40. (29) yon] you '68. (30) poisoner '40, flf. 



POEMS 165 

Being set, let's sport a while, my Fair, 
I will tye Love knots in thy haire. 
See Zephyrus through the leaves doth stray, 45 

And has free liberty to play; 
And braids thy locks: And shall I find 
Lesse favour then a saucy wind? 
Now let me sit, and fix my eyes, 

On thee that art my Paradise. 5° 

Thou art my all; the spring remains 
In the fair violets of thy veins: 
And that it is a summers day. 
Ripe Cherries in thy lips display. 

And when for Autumn I would seek, 55 

'Tis in the Apples of thy cheek. 
But that which only moves my smart. 
Is to see winter in thy heart. 
Strange, when at once in one appear 
All the four seasons of the year! 60 

rie clasp that neck where should be set 
A rich and Orient Carkanet: 
But swains are poor, admit of then 
More naturall chains, the arms of men. 
Come let me touch those brests, that swell 65 

Like two faire mountains, and may well 
Be stil'd the Alpes, but that I feare 
The snow has lesse of whitenesse there. 
But stay (my Love) a fault I spy, 
Why are these two fair fountains dry? 70 

Which if they run, no Muse would please 
To tast of any spring but these. 
And Ganymed employ'd should bee 
To fetch his love Nectar from thee. 
(70) ?] , '38. 



1 66 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Thou shalt be Nurse fair Venus swears . s 

To the Next Cupid that she bears. 

Were it not then discreetly done 

To ope one spring to let two runne? 

Fy, fy, this Belly, Beauty's mint, 

Blushes to see no coyn stampt in't. 80 

Employ it then, for though it be 

Our wealth, it is your royaltie; 

And beauty will have currant grace 

That bears the Image of your face. 

How to the touch the Ivory thighes 85 

Veil gently, and again doe rise. 

As pliable to impression. 

As Virgins waxe, or Parian stone 

Dissolv'd to softnesse, plump and full, 

More white and soft then Cotsall zvooll; 90 

Or Gotten from the Indian Tree, 

•Or pretty silkworms huswifrie. 

These on two marble pillars rais'd 

Make me in doubt which should be praisd; 

They, or their Columnes must; but when 95 

1 view those feet which I have seen 

So nimbly trip it o're the Lawns 

That all the Satyrs and the fawns 

Have stood amaz'd, when they would passe 

Over the leyes, and not a grasse 100 

Would feel the weight, nor rush, nor bent 

Drooping betray which way you went. 

O then I felt my hot desires 

Burn more, and flame with double fires. 

(82) your] our '68. (lOO) layes '40, ff. 

(88) or] om. '68. (loi) rash '68. 

(89) softnesse; '40, fF. (102) .] , '40, '43, '52, '64, ; '68. 
(92) huswiferie '40, ff. (104) Burnt '68, ,];'38. 



POEMS 167 

Come let those thighes, those legs, those feet, 105 

With mine in thousand windings meet, 

And woven in more subtle twines 

Then woodbine, Ivy, or the vines. 

For when Love sees us circling thus 

He'le like no Arbour more then us. no 

Now let us kisse, would you be gone? 

Manners at least allows me one. 

Blush you at this, pretty one stay, 

And I will take that kisse away. 

Thus with a second, and that too 115 

A third wipes off; so will we goe 

To numbers that the Starrs out run. 

And all the Atoms in the Sun. 

For though we kisse till Phcebus ray 

Sink in the seas, and kissing stay 120 

Till his bright beams return again. 

There can of all but one remain: 

And if for one good manners call. 

In one good manners grant me all. 

Are kisses all.? they but forerun 125 

Another duty to be done. 
What would you of that minstrell say 
That tunes his pipes and will not play? 
Say what are blossoms in their prime. 
That ripen not in harvest time? 130 

Or what are buds that ne're disclose 
The long'd for sweetnesse of the rose? 
So kisses to a Lover's guest 
Are invitations not the feast. 

See everything that we espy 135 

Is fruitfull, saving you and I: 

{114) ; '64, '68. (124) one, good manners, '40, ff. 

(116) of '38, '40, '64 ;] , '38. (i2S) kisses? all they '64, '68. 



1 68 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Veiw all the feilds, survey the bowers, 

The buds, the blossoms and the flowers; 

And say if they so rich could be 

In barren base Virginitie. 140 

Earth's not so coy as you are now. 

But willingly admits the plow. 

For how had man or beast been fed, 

If she had kept her maiden head? 

Ccelia once coy as are the rest 145 

Hangs now a babe on either brest; 

And Chloris since a man she took, 

Has lesse of greennesse in her look. 

Our ewes have ean'd, and every damme 

Gives suck unto her tender Lambe. ijo 

As by these groves we walk'd along. 

Some Birds were feeding of their young, 

Some on their egges did brooding sit, 

Sad that they had not hatch'd them yet. 

Those that were slower then the rest, 155 

Were busy building of their nest. 

You will not only pay the fine, 

You vow'd and ow'd to Vale^itine. 

As you were angling in the brook 

With silken line and silver hook, i6o 

Through Christall streams you might descry 

How vast and numberlesse a fry 

The fish had spawn'd, that all along 

The banks were crowded with the throng. 

And shall fair Venus more command 165 

By water then she does by land? 

The Phoenix chast, yet when she dyes. 

Her self with her own ashes lyes. 

(156) their] the '43, '52, '68. (157) you only will not pay '43, fiF. 



POEMS 169 

But let thy Love more wisely thrive 

To doe the act while th'art alive. 170 

'Tis time we left our childish Love 

That trades for toyes, and now approve 

Our abler skill; they are not wise 

Look Babies only in the eyes. 

That smooth red smile shews what you meant, 17s 

And modest silence gives consent. 

That which we now prepare, will bee 

Best done in silent secresie. 

Come doe not weep, what is't you feare? 

Least some should know what we did here. i8o 

See not a flowre you prest is dead. 

But re-erects his bended head; 

That who soe're shall passe this way 

Knows not by these where Phyllis lay. 

And in your forehead there is none 185 

Can read the act that we have done. 

Phyllis. 
Poore credulous and simple maid! 
By what strange wiles art thou betraid! 
A treasure thou hast lost to day 

For which thou canst no ransome pay. 190 

How black art thou transform'd with sin! 
How strange a guilt gnaws me within! 
Greif will convert this red to pale; 
When every Wake, and whitsund-ale 
Shall talk my shame; break, break sad heart 195 

There is no Medicine for my smart. 

No hearb nor balm can cure my sorrow, 

Vnlesse you meet again to morrow. 

(175) smooth'red '43 smoother'd '52. 

(i8o) .] f '68. (192) !] ? '43, '52. 



I70 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Vpon a very deformed Gentlewoman^ but of a 
voice incomparably sweet. 

Ichanc'd sweet Lesbia's voice to heare, 
O that the pleasure of the eare 
Contented had the appetite; 
But I must satisfy the sight; 

Where such a face I chanc'd to see 5 

From which good Lord deHver me. 
I'st not prophane if I should tell 
I thought her one of those that fell 
With Lucifers Apostate traine 
Yet did her Angels voice retaine? 10 

A cherubin her notes descry'd, 
A Divell every where beside. 
Aske the dark woods, and they'le confesse 
None did such Harmony expresse 
In all their bowres from May to lune, 15 

Yet nere was face so out of tune. 
Her Virginall teeth false time did keep, 
Her wrinkled forhead went too deep. 
Lower then Gammut sunke her eyes, 
'Bove Ela though her nose did rise. 20 

rie trust Musitians now that tell 
Best musique doth in discords dwell. 
Her ayres entic'd the gentle quire 
Of Birds to come, who all admire. 
And would with pleasure longer stay, 25 

But that her looks frights them away. 
Which for a good Priapus goes 
And well may serve to scarre the crowes. 

incomparable '43, ff- (^S) stxay '68. 

(21) tell] rest '43, '52. 



POEMS 171 

Her voice might tempt th' immortall race. 

But let her only shew her face, 30 

And soone shee might extinguish thus 

The lusting of an Incubus. 

So have I scene a lute ore worne, 

Old and rotten, patcht and tome, 

So ravish with a sound, and bring 35 

A close so sweet to every string. 

As would strike wonder in our eares. 

And work an envy in the Spheares. 

Say monster strange, what maist thou be? 

Whence shall I fetch thy Pedigree? 40 

What but a Panther could beget 

A beast so foule, a breath so sweet? 

Or thou of Syrens issue art. 

If they be fish the upper part. 

Or else blind Homer was not mad 45 

Then when he sung Vlysses had 

So strange a guift from ^olus, 

Who odour-breathing Zephyrus 

In severall bottles did inclose, 

For certain thou art one of those. 50 

Thy lookes, where other women place 

Their chiefest Pride, is thy disgrace. 

The tongue, a part which us'd to be 

Worst in thy Sexe, is best in thee. 

Were I but now to choose my deare 55 

Not by my eye, but by my eare, 

Here would I dote; how shall I wooe 

Thy voice, and not thy body too? 

Then all the brood I get of thee. 

Would Nightingalls, and Cygnets be: 60 



172 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Cygnets betimes their throats to trye, 

Borne with more Musique then they dye. 

Say Leshia, say, what God will blesse 

Our Loves with so much happinesse? 

Some women are all tongue, but 6 65 

Why art not thou my Leshia so? 

Thy looks doe speak thee witch; one spell 

To make thee but invisible, 

Or dye; resigne thy selfe to death. 

And I will catch thy latest breath; 70 

But that the nose will scarce I feare 

Finde it so sweet, as did the eare. 

Or if thou wouldst not have me coy. 

As was the selfe-inamour'd Boy, 

Turne only Voice, an Eccho prove, 75 

Here, here, by heav'n, I fixe my Love: 

If not, you Gods, to ease my mind, 

Or make her dumbe, or strike me blind; 

For griefe, and anger in me rise, 

Whil'st shee hath tongue, or I have eyes. 80 

(62) they] the '43, '52. (69) die! and resign '68. 

(66) ?] ! '38. (76) rie fit '64, '68. 

(67) loolis doe] look doth '68. 



The milk-maids Epithalamium. 

IOy to the Bridegroome and the Bride 
That lye by one anothers side! 
O fie upon the Virgin Bedds, 
No losse is gain but Maiden heads. 
Love quickly send the time may be 
When I shall deal my Rosemary! 

(4) gain'd '68. 



POEMS 173 

I long to simper at a feast, 

To dance, and kisse, and doe the rest. 

When I shall wed, and Bedded be 

then the qualme comes over me, 10 
And tells the sweetnesse of a Theame 

That I ne're knew but in a dreame. 

You Ladies have the blessed nights, 

1 pine in hope of such delights. 

And silly Dam'sell only can 15 

Milk the cowes teats and think on man: 
And sigh and wish to tast and prove 
The wholesome Sillibub of Love. 

Make hast, at once twin-Brothers beare; 

And leave new matter for a starre. 20 

Woemen and ships are never shown 

So fair as when their sayles be blown. 

Then when the Midwife hears your moane, 

rie sigh for grief that I have none. 

And you, deare Knight, whose every kisse 25 

Reapes the full crop of Cupids blisse. 

Now you have found, confesse and tell 

That single sheets doe make up hell. 

And then so charitable be 

To get a man to pitty me. 30 

(is) Damsell '40, ff. 
(22) be] are '40, ff. 



174 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

An Eglogue on the noble Assemblies revived on 
Cotswold Hills, by M. Robert Dover. 



L.ouen, J penot. 

vv: 



Collen, Thenot. 

Hat Clod-pates, Thenot, are our 
Brittish swains? 
Coll. ▼ ▼ How lubber-like they loll upon the 

plains, 
No life, no spirit in 'urn! every Clown 
Soone as he layes his Hook and Tarbox down, 
That ought to take his Reed, and chant his layes, 
Or nimbly run the windings of the Maze, 6 

Now gets a bush to roam himselfe, and sleepe; 
Tis hard to know the shepheard from the sheepe. 
And yet me thinks our English pastures be 
As flowery as the Lawnes of Arcadie; lo 

Our Virgins blith as theirs, nor can proud Greece 
Boast purer ayre, nor sheer a finer fleece. 
The. Yet view their out-side, Collen, you would say 
They have as much brawn in their necks as they 
Fair Tempe braggs of; lusty armes that swell 15 
With able sinews, and might hurle as well 
The weightie sledge; their leggs, and thighs of 

bone. 
Great as Colossus, yet their strength is gone. 
They look like yonder man of wood, that stands 
To bound the limits of the Parish lands. 20 

AN EGLOGVE ON THE PALILIA 
And Noble Assemblies revived on Cotswold 
Hills, by M^ ROBERT DOVER. 

COLLEN. THENOT. (Heading in A. D.) 

(1) CollJ om. A.D. ?] , '38. (7) room. '43 flf. 

(2) .] ? '38. (14) they; a.d. they. '52, '68. 

(3) 'em; '38, ff. (15) ;] om. a.d., '52, '68 .'43- 
(6) winding '38. (18) strengths are A.D. 



POEMS 175 

Dost thou ken, Collen, what the cause might be 
Of such a dull and generall Lethargie? 

Coll. Swain, with their sports their soules were ta'ne 
away. 
Till then they all were active; every day 
They exercised to weild their limbs, that now 25 
Are numb'd to every thing, but flail and plow. 
Early in May up got the jolly rout 
Call'd by the Lark, and spred the feilds about: 
One for to breath himselfe, would coursing be 
From this same Beech, to yonder Mulberie. 30 
A second leapt, his supple nerves to try, 
A third was practicing his melody. 
This a new ligg was footing; others were 
Busied at wrastling, or to throw the Barre: 
Ambitious which should beare the bell away, 35 
And kisse the Nut-brown Lady of the May. 
This stirr'd 'um up; a lolly swain was he 
Whom Peg, and Susan after Victory 
Crown'd with a garland they had made, beset 
With Daisies, Pincks and many a Violet, 40 

Cowslip, and Gilliflower. Rewards though small 
Encourage vertue; but if none at all 
Meet her, she languisheth, and dyes, as now 
Where worth's deny'd the honour of a bough. 
And, Thenot, this the cause I read to be 45 

Of such a dull and generall Lethargie. 

The. Ill thrive the Lowt that did their mirth gainsay, 
Wolves haunt his flocks, that took those sports 
away! 

(23) Swaine ! a.d. (37) 'um] 'em '38, ff. he] me '43, '52. 

(24) active, '38, ff. every day; '64, '68. (40) Dazies a.d. 

(33) ;] , '38. ff. (43) dyes] lyes '64. 

(34) wrestling '38, ff. (48) his] these '64, '68 !] . a.d. 



176 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Coll. Some melancholy swains about have gone 

To teach all Zeale, their own complection: 50 
Choler they will admit sometimes I see 
But Fleagme, and Sanguine no Religions be. 
These teach that Dauncing is a lezabell; 
And Barley-break, the ready way to Hell. 
The Morrice, Idolls; Whitsun'-ales can be 55 
But prophane Reliques of a lubilee! 
These in a Zeal, t'expresse how much they doe 
This Organs hate, have silenc'd Bag-pipes too; 
And harmlesse May-poles, all are rail'd upon 
As if they were the towers of Babilon. 60 

Some think not fit there should be any sport 
I'th Country, 'tis a dish proper to th' Court. 
Mirth not becomes *um, let the sawcy swain 
Eate Beef, and Bacon, and goe sweat again. 
Besides, what sport can in their pastimes be 65 
When all is but ridiculous fopperie? 

The. Collen, I once the famous Spain did see, 
A nation glorious for her gravitie; 
Yet there an hundred Knights on warlike steeds 
Did skirmish out a fight arm'd but with reeds; 
At which a thousand Ladies eyes did gaze, 71 
Yet 'twas no better then our Prison-base. 
What is the Barriers but a Courtly way 
Of our more down right sport, the Cudgell- 

play? 
Foot-ball with us may be with them Baloone, 75 
As they at Tilt, so we at Quintaine runne. 

(so) zeal their '38, ff. 

(55) Morrice Idols, '38, '64, '68 Morrice-Idols '43, '52. 

(62) Country] Citie, a.d. to th'] to 'th a.d. to t'h '38. 

(63) 'em '38, ff. (66) ?] . a.d. (72) was '38 'was '40. 
(75) Balcome '43, '52 Balcone '68 



POEMS 177 

And those old Pastimes relish best with me, 
That have least Art, and most simplicitie. 
Collen, they say at Court there is an Art 
To dance a Ladies honour from her hart; 80 
Such wiles poor shepheards know not, all their 

sence 
Is dull to any thing but Innocence. 
The Country Lasse, although her dance be good, 
Stirs not anothers Galliard in the Blood. 
And yet their Sports by some controul'd have 

been, 85 

Who think there is no mirth but what is sin. 
O might I but their harmlesse Gambols see 
Restor'd unto an ancient libertie, 
Where spotlesse dalliance traces o're the Plains, 
And harmlesse Nymphs jet it with harmlesse 

swains! 90 

To see an age againe of Innocent Loves 
Twine close as Vines, yet kisse as chast as 

Doves, 
Me thinks I could the Thracian Lyre have 

strung. 
Or tun'd my whistle to the Mantuan song. 
Coll. Then tune thy whistle boy, and string thy 

Lyre, 95 

That age is come againe, thy brave desire 
Pan hath approv'd; dauncing shall bee this yeare 
Holy, as is the motion of a Spheare. 
The. Collen, with sweeter breath Fame never blew 
Her sacred Trump, if this good newes be true! 100 
Coll. Knowst thou not Cotswold hils? 

(87) their] there '38, '40, see! a.d. 
(98) ,] om. "38 



178 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

The: Through all the land 

No Finer wooU runnes through the spinsters 

hand. 
But silly ColleUy ill thou dost divine; 
Canst thou mistake a Bramble for a Pine? 
Or think this Bush a Cedar? or suppose 105 

Yon Hamlet, where to sleepe each shepheard 

goes 
In circuit, buildings, people, power and name 
Equalls the Bow string'd by the silver Thame? 
As well thou maist their sports with ours com- 
pare. 
As the soft wooll of Lambs, with the Goates 
haire. 110 

Coll. Last evening Lad, I met a noble swaine, 

That spurr'd his sprightfull Palfrey ore the plain, 
His head with ribbands crown'd, and deckt as 

gay 
As any Lasse upon her Bridall day: 
I thought (what easy faiths we shepheards 

prove!) 115 

This, not the Bull, had been Europas Love! 
I ask't the cause, they told me this was he 
Whom this daies Triumph crown'd with Victory. 
Many brave steeds there were, some you should 

finde 
So fleet as they had been sonnes of the winde: 120 
Others with hoofs so swift, beat o're the race 
As if some engine shot 'um to the place. 
So many and so well wing'd Steeds there were. 
As all the Brood of Pegasus had been there. 

(106) Yo'n '38 young '43, '52, goes? a.d. 

(118) crownd '38. (122) 'em '38, ff. 



POEMS 179 

Rider, and horse could not distinguish'd be, 125 
Both seem'd conjoyn'd a Centaur/ s Progeny. 
A numerous troop they were, yet all so light 
Earth never groan'd, nor felt 'um in their 

flight. 
Such Royall Pastimes Cotswold mountains fill, 
When gentle swains visit her glorious hill: 130 
Where with such packs of Hounds they hunting 

goe. 
As Cyrus never woon'd his Bugle to! 
Whose noise is musicall; and with full cries 
Beats o're the feilds, and Ecchoes through the 

skies. 
Orion hearing wish'd to leave his Spheare, 135 
And call his Dogge from heaven, to sport it there. 
Watt though he fled for life, yet joy'd withall 
So brave a dirge sung forth his funerall. 
Not Syrens sweetlier rill. Hares as they flie 
Look back, as glad to listen, loth to die. 140 

The. No doubt but from this brave Heroick fire 
In the more noble hearts, sparks of desire 
May warme the colder Boores, and emulous 

strife 
Give the old Mirth and Innocence a new life. 
When thoughts of fame their quickned souls 

shall fill 145 

At every glaunce that shewes 'um Cotswold hill. 

Coll. There shepheard, there, the solemn games be 

playd. 
Such as great Theseus, or Alcides made: 



(132) ne're did winde '38, ff. 

(139) Not] Nor '68. 

(146) 'em '38, '40, '43, '64, '68 them '$2. 



l80 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Such as Afollo wishes he had seene, 
And love desires had his Invention beene! ijo 
The Nemean, and the Isthmian pastimes still 
Though dead In Greece, survive on Cotswold hill. 

The. Happy oh hill! the gentle Graces now 

Shall trip o're Thine and leave Citherons brow: 
Parnassus cllft, shall sink below his spring, 155 
And every Muse shall on thy frontlet sing. 
The Goddesses agalne In strife shall be, 
And from mount Ida make appeale to thee; 
Olympus pay thee homage and In dread 
The aged Alpes shall bow his snowy head; 160 
Flora with all her store thy Temples Crowne, 
Whose height shall reach the stars: Gods looking 

down 
Shall blesse the Incense that thy flowers exhale 
And make thee both a Mountain and a Vale. 
How many Ladies on thy top shall meet, 165 
And presse thy tresses with their od'rous feet.? 
Whose eyes when wondring men see from a farre, 
They'le think thee Heaven and each of them a 
starre. 
But gentle Collen say what God or man 
Fame we for this great worke, Daphnis or Pan? 

Coll. Daphnis Is dead, and Pan hath broke his Reed, 
Tell all your flocks 'tis loviall Dover's deed. 
Behold the shepheards in their ribbands goe, 
And shortly all the Nymphs shall weare 'um too: 

(149-150) The order of these lines reversed in '64 and '68. 
(153) Oh happy hill! '38. 
(I5S) dift shall '38. 
(161) storethy '38. 

(168) They'le think the heaven and earth of them a starre. a.d. starre, '38. 

(169) Coll. But gentle Collen '38. (172) DOVERS a.d. 
(171) Coll.'\ The. '38. (174) 'em '38, ff. 



POEMS l8l 

Amaz'd to see such glory met together, 175 

Blesse Dovers pipe, whose Musick call'd 'um 

hither. 
Sport you my Rams at sound of Dovers name; 
Big-bellied ewes make hast to bring a Lambe 
For Dovers fold: Goe maids and Lillies get 
To make him up a glorious Coronet. 180 

Swains keep his holy-day and each man sweare 
To Saint him in the Shepheards Calendar. 

(176) 'em '38, '43, '64, '68 'm '52. 

(176, 177, 179) DOVERS A.D. 

The poem is signed Thomas Randall. Cant, in a.d. 



The Song of Orpheus. 

HAile sacred Deserts, whom kind nature made 
Only to shelter with a loving shade, 
The now neglected Musique, glad to see 
Lyons afford her hospitality. 

And Tigers bid her welcome, with the rest 5 

Of savage beasts accept her for a guest, 
Since Men refuse her, and scarce daigne an eare 
To her high notes; or if they please to heare, 
Tis all; amongst my Pupills, you may see 
The birds that learn'd their sweetest laies of me; 10 
Those that chant Carols in this thanklesse age 
To pleasure men, rewarded with a Cage. 



1 82 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



A Maske for Lydia. 

SWeet Lydia take this maske, and shroud 
Thy face within the silken cloud, 
And veile those powerfull Skies: 
For he whose gazing dares so high Aspire, 

Makes burning glasses of his eyes, j 

And sets his heart on fire. 

Vaile, Lydia vaile, for unto mee 
There is no basiliske but thee. 

Thy very lookes doe kill: 
Yet in those lookes so fixt is my delight, lo 

Poore soule (alas) I languish still 
In absence of thy sight. 

Close up those eyes, or we shall finde 
Too great a lustre strike us blinde! 

Or if a Ray so good ij 

Ought to be seene, let it but then appeare 

When Eagles doe produce their brood, 
To try their young ones there. 

Or if thou would'st have me to know 

How great a brightnesse thou canst shew, 20 

When they have lost the Sun; 
Then doe thou rise, and give the world this theme, 

Sol from th' Hesperides is run. 
And back hath whipt his teame. 

Yet through the Goat when he shall stray, 25 

Thou through the Crab must take thy way; 

(14) strikes '52 !] : '38. (19) you would '68. (20) ,] ; '38 



POEMS 183 

For should you both shine bright 
In the same Tropick, we poore moles should get 

Not so much comfort by the light, 
As torment by the heat. 30 

Where's Lydia now? where shall I seeke 
Her charming lip, her tempting cheeke 

That my affections bow'd? 
So dark a sable hath ecclipst my faire. 

That I can gaze upon the cloud, 35 

That durst not see the Star. 

But yet me thinkes my thoughts begin 
To say there lies a white within. 

Though black her pride controule: 
And what care I how black a face I see, 4° 

So there be whitenesse in the soule, 
Still such an Ethiop be. 

(39) controul t '52. 



A Parley with his empty Purse. 

PVrse, who'l not know you have a Poets been 
When he shall look and find no gold herein.? 
What respect (think you) will there now be shown 
To this foule nest, when all the birds are flowne? 
Vnnaturall vacuum, can your emptinesse S 

Answer to some slight questions, such as these? 
How shall my debts be paid? or can my scores 
Be cleer'd with verses to my Creditors? 

(i) who I not 'S2, Poets] Poet '52, '68. 



1 84 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Hexameter*s no sterling, and I feare 

What the brain coynes goes scarce for currant there. lo 

Can meeter cancell bonds? is here a time 

Ever to hope to wipe out chalke with rime? 

Or if I now were hurrying to the jaile 

Are the nine Muses held sufficient baile? 

Would they to any composition come, 15 

If we should morgage our Elisium, 

Temfe, Parnassus, and the golden streames 

Of Tagus, and Pactolus, those rich dreames 

Of active fancy? Can our Orpheus move 

Those rocks, and stones with his best straines of Love ? 

Should I (like Homer) sing in lofty tones 21 

To them Achilles, and his Myrmidons; 

Hector, and Aiax are but Sergeants names. 

They rellish bay-salt, 'bove the Epigrams 

Of the most season'd braine, nor will they be 25 

Content with Ode, or paid with Elegy. 

Muse, burn thy bales, and thy fond quill resigne, 

One crosse of theirs is worth whole books of mine. 

Of all the treasure which the Poets hold 

There's none at all they weigh, except our gold; 30 

And mine's return'd to th' Indies, and hath swore 

Never to visit this cold climate more. 

Then crack your strings good Purse, for you need none; 

Gape on, as they doe to be paid, gape on. 

(22) ;] ! '43. '52. 
(24) above '68. 



POEMS 185 

Vpon Love fondly refused for Conscience sake. 

NAture, Creations law, Is judg'd by sense, 
Not by the Tyrant conscience. 
Then our commission gives us leave to doe 
What youth and pleasure prompts us to: 
For we must question else heavens great decree, 5 

And taxe it with a Treachery; 
If things made sweet to tempt our appetite 

Should with a guilt stain the delight. 
Higher powers rule us, our selves can nothing doe; 

Who made us love made't lawfull too. 10 

It was not love, but love transform'd to vice 

Ravish'd by envious Avarice, 
Made women first impropriate; all were free, 

Inclosures mans Inventions be. 
I' th' golden age no action could be found 15 

For trespasse on my neighbours ground: 
'Twas just with any Fayre to mixe our blood; 

The best is most diffusive good. 
She that confines her beams to one mans sight. 

Is a darke Lanthorne to a glorious Light. 20 

Say, does the Virgin-spring lesse chast appear 

Cause many Thirsts are quenched there? 
Or have you not with the same odours met 

When more have smelt your violet.? 
The Phenix is not angry at her nest, 25 

Cause her perfumes make others blest: 
Though Incense to th' eternal Gods be meant, 

Yet mortalls Rivall in the sent. 

(4) too: '68. 

(9) us,] om. '68. made'lawfuU '43. 

(14) mens '40, ff. 

(20) dark-Lanthorn '43, glorious] om. '64, '68. 



1 86 THOMJS RANDOLPH 

Man is the Lord of creatures, yet we see 

That all his vassals loves are free; 30 

The severe wedlocks fetters doe not bind 

The Pard's inflam'd, and amorous mind; 
But that he may be like a Bridegroome led 

Even to the Royall Lyons bed. 
The birds may for a yeare their loves confine, 35 

But make new choyce each Valentine. 
If our affections then more servile be 

Then are our slaves, where's mans soveraignty? 
Why then by pleasing more, should you lesse please, 

And spare the sweets, being more sweet then these? 
If the fresh Trunk have sap enough to give 41 

That each insertive branch may live; 
The Gardner grafts not only Apples there, 

But addes the Warden and the Peare; 
The Peach, and Apricock together grow, 45 

The Cherry, and the Damson too. 
Till he hath made by skilfull husbandry 

An intire Orchard of one Tree. 
So least our Paradise perfection want, 

We may as well inoculate as plant. 50 

What's Conscience but a Beldams midnight theme.? 

Or nodding nurses idle dreame? 
So feign'd, as are the Goblins, Elves, and Fairies 

To watch their Orchards, and their Dairies. 
For who can tell when first her reigne begun? 55 

I' th' state of innocence was none: 
And since large conscience (as the proverb shewes) 

In the same sense with bad one goes, 

(38) our] om. '64, '68. 

(40) the] om. '64, '68. 

(50) may inoculate and plant. '64, '68. 

fsO Bedlams '64, '68. 



POEMS 187 

The lesse the better then, whence this will fall, 

'Tis to be perfect to have none at all. 60 

Suppose it be a vertue, rich and pure, 

'Tis not for Spring, or Summer sure, 
Nor yet for Autumne; Love must have his prime, 

His warmer heats, and harvest time. 
Till we have flourish'd, growne, and reap'd our 
wishes, 65 

What Conscience dares oppose our kisses? 
But when times colder hand leads us neare home, 

Then let that winter-vertue come: 
Frost is till then prodigious; we may doe 

What youth and pleasure prompts us to. 70 

(60) He's perfect that hath none at all. '68. 
(68) winter vertue '52. 



POEMS 

NOT IN THE 1638 EDITION 

BUT 

INCLUDED IN THE 1640 

AND SUBSEQUENT EDITIONS. 



On Importunate Dunnes. 

POx take you all from you my sorrows swell 
Your Treacherous Faith makes me turn Infidell. 
Pray vex me not for Heavens sake, or rather 
For your poor Childrens sake, or for their Father. 
You trouble me in vain, what 'ere you say 5 

I cannot, will not, nay I ought not pay. 
You are Extortioners; I was not sent 
T' encrease your sins, but make you all repent 
That 'ere you trusted me, wee' re even here, 
I bought too cheap, because you sold too dear. lo 
Learn Conscience of your Wives, for they I swear 
For the most part Trade in the better Ware. 
Heark Reader if thou never yet hadst one 
I'le shew the torments of a Cambridge Dunne. 
He railes where 'ere he comes, and yet can say 15 
But this, that Randolph did not keep his day. 
What.? can I keep the Day, or stop the Sun 
From setting, or the Night from coming on. 
Could I have kept dayes, I had chang'd the doom 
Of Times and Seasons, that had never come. 20 

These evill spirits haunt me every day. 
And will not let me eat, study, or pray. 
I am so much in their Books that 'tis known 
I am too seldome frequent in my owne. 
What damage given to my Doors might be 25 

If Doors might Actions have of Battery! 

(S) ,] ; '64, '68. (26) ? '68. 

(9) )] ; '64, '68. wee're] om. '68. 
191 



192 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And when they finde their comming to no end 

They Dunne by proxie, and their Letters send, 

In such a stile as I could never find 

In Tullies long, or Seneca's short winde. 30 



Good Master Randolph, Pardon me, I pray 

If I remember you forget your day. 

I kindly dealt with you, and it would he 

Vnkind in you, not to be kinde to 7ne. 

Tou know, Sir, I must pay for what I have. 35 

My Creditors will be paid, therefore I crave 

Pay me as I pay them Sir, for one Brother 

Is bound in Conscience to pay another. 

Besides my Landlord would not be content. 

If I should dodge with him fors quarters rent. 40 

My Wife lies in too, and I needs must pay 

The Midwife, least the fool be cast away. 

And 'tis a second charge to me poor man 

To make the new born Babe a Christian. 

Besides the Churching a third charge will be 45 

In butter' d Habherdine and frummety. 

Thus hoping you will make a courteous end, 

I rest (I would thou would'st) Tour loving Friend. 

A. B. M. H. T. B. H. L. I. O. 

I. F. M. G. P. W. Nay I know 50 

You have the same stile all, and as for me 
Such as your stile is shall your payment be, 
Just all alike; see, what a cursed spell 
Charmes Devils up, to make my Chamber hell. 

(39) .] • '43- (S2) J • '43. ff- (53) ;] . '40, '43. 'S2- 



POEMS 193 

This some starv'd Prentice brings, one that does look 

With a face blurr'd more then his Masters book. 56 

One that in any chink can peeping lye 

More slender then the yard he measures by: 

When my poor stomack barks for meat I dare 

Scarce humour it, they make me live by air, 60 

As the Camelions do; and if none pay 

Better then I have done, even so may they. 

When I would go to Chappell, they betray 

My zeal, and when I onely meant to pray 

Unto my God, faith all I have to do 65 

Is to pray them, and glad theyl hear me too. 

Nay should I preach, the Raschals are so vext, 

They'd fee a beadle to arrest my Text; 

And sue if such a sute might granted be. 

My Use and Doctrine to an Outlary. 70 

This stings, yet what my gall most works upon 

Is that the hope of my revenge is gone. 

For were I but to deal with such as those. 

That know the danger of my Uerse or Prose 

Ide steep my Muse in Vinegar and Gall 75 

Till the fierce scold grew sharp and hang'd 'um all. 

But those I am to deal with are so dull, 

(Though got by Schollers) he that is most full 

Of Understanding can but hither come, 

Imprimis, Item, and the Totall summe. 80 

I do not wish them Aigypts plagues, but even 

As bad as they; I'le add unto them seven. 

I wish not Grashoppers, Froggs, and Lice come down. 

But clouds of Moths in every shop i' th' Town. 



(S6) his] her '52. (71) ,] ; '68. 

(58) :], '40 . '68. (74) or] and '68. 



194 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Then honest Devill to their Ink convey 85 

Some Aqua-fortis that may eat away 

Their books. To adde more torments to their lives, 

Heaven I beseech thee, send 'um handsome Wives. 

Such as will pox their flesh, till sores grow in 't 

That all their Linnen may be spent in lint. 90 

And give them Children with ingenuous faces, 

Indued with all the Ornaments and Graces 

Of Soul and Body, that it may be known 

To others, and themselves, they'r not their own. 

And if this vex 'um not, I'le grieve the Town 95 

With this curse. States put Trinity-Lecture down. 

But my last Imprecation this shall be, 

May they more Debtors have, and all like me. 

(98) all] om. '43. 



A Character. 

Aulico-Politico-Academico. 

THou Cozen to great Madams and allyed, 
To all the Beauties that are Ladified, 
Thou Eagle of the Realm whose eyes can see, 
Th' invisible plots of forraign policie. 
Thou great and unknown Learning of thy Nation 
Made not by studie, but by inspiration! 
The Court, the State, the Schooles together be 
By th' ears, and fight, and scratch, and all for thee. 
When I behold thee cringe in some fair Hall, 
And scrape proportions Mathematicall, 

(7) Schooles] SchoUers '64 Scholars '68. 



POEMS 195 

Varying thy mouth as 'twere by Magick-spell 

To circle, ovall, square, and triangle, 

And take a Virgin by the Ivory hand 

Minting words to her, none can understand 

But in a vision, and some verse repeat 15 

So well inchanted, none the sense can get. 

Till they have conjur'd in lines strange and many. 

To find what spirit it has, if it have any. 

To see thy feet (though nature made them splay) 

Screw in the toes to dance and force a way 20 

To some smooth measure, as might justly vaunt 

Thou art turn'd Monseur of an Elephant. 

Thy mother sure going to see some sport, 

Tilting, or Masque, conceav'd thee in the Court. 

But when I view thee gravely nod, and spit 25 

In a grave posture, shake the head, and fit 

Plots to bring Spain to England, and confine 

King Philips Indies unto Middletons Mine. 

When I read o're thy comments sagely writ 

On the Currantoes, and with how much wit 30 

Thy profound Aphorismes do expound to us 

The Almanacks, and Gallobelgicus; 

When I conceive what news thou wilt bring ore 

When thou returnst with thy Embassador; 

What slops the Switzer wears to hide his joynts, 35 

How French and how the Spaniard trusse their points, 

How ropes of Onions at Saint Omers go. 

And whether Turks be Christians yea or no. 

Then I believe one in deep points so able, 

Was surely got under the Councell-table. 40 

(is) verse] words '68. (28) Minf\o. 

(16) get. '43, '68. (33) o're '43, ff. 

(20) away '40, '43. (35) slopes '64, '68 Suiiturt'\3,'it. 

(27) to England, '40. 



196 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

But when I hear thee of Celarent write 

In Ferio and Baralypton fight, 

Me thinks my then Prophetike soul durst tell 

Thou must be born at Aristotles Well. 

But shall I tell thee friend how thy blest fate 45 

By chance hath made thy name so fortunate. 

The States-man thinks thou hast too much o'th'Court, 

The Courtier thinks thy sager parts do sort 

Best for the State; as for the Ladies they 

Pos'd with the Medley of thy language, say 50. 

Th' art a meet Scholler, and the Scholler swears 

Thou art of any tribe rather then theirs. 

One thinks thee this, one that, a third thinks either, 

Thou thinkst thy self th'art all, and I think neither. 



On the losse of his Finger. 

HOw much more blest are trees then men, 
Their boughes lopt off will grow agen; 
But if the steel our limbs dissever, 
The joynt once lost is lost for ever. 
But fondly I dull fool complain, 5 

Our members shall revive again; 
And thou poor finger that art dust 
Before the other members, must 
Return as soon at heavens command, 
And reunited be to th* hand lo 

As those that are not ashes yet; 
Why dost thou then so envious sit. 
And malice Oaks that they to fate 
Are tenants of a longer date.? 

(1) .3 ? '43. ff- (9) soon as '43, ff. 



POEMS 197 

Their leafes do more years include 15 

But once expir'd, are nere renew'd. 

Therefore dear finger though thou be 

Cut from those muscles govern'd thee, 

And had thy motion at command, 

Yet still as in a margent stand, 20 

To point my thoughts to fix upon 

The hope of Resurrection: 

And since thou canst no finger be 

Be a deaths head to humble me, 

Till death doth threat her sting in vain, 25 

And we in heaven shake hands again. 



A paraneticon to the truly noble Gentlman 
M. Endymion Porter. 

GOe bashfull Muse, thy message isto one 
That drinks and fils thy Helicon. 
Who when his quill a sportive number seeks, 

Plants Roses in the Ladies cheeks. 
And with a sad note from their eyes can call 

Pearl-showres to dew those buds withall, 
Whose layes when I by chance am blest to hear 

My soul climbs up into my ear, 
And bids your sisters challenge from the Moon 

The Learned, as the fair Endymion. 
Sing of his faith to the bright soul that's fled, 

And left you all poor girls struck dead 
With just despair of any future men 

T'employ, or to reward a Pen. 

(i) is] tell '64, '68. 



198 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

A soul that staying would have wonders wrought, 15 

High as himself, or his great thought. 
And full of dayes, and honours (with our prayers, 

In stead of Beads summ'd up with tears.) 
Might of her own free flight to heaven have gone, 

Offer what's heart, his hand, his sword had done. 20 
But sing not thou a tale of discontent 

To him whose joy is to lament. 
We ought to pay true tears upon the hearse, 

And lay some up in faithfuU verse. 
And so cast oflF our black; for more then thus 25 

Troubles the saints for troubling us. 
Say to him, Cupid being once too kinde 

Wept out his eyes and so grew blinde. 
For dead Adonis, grief being paid her due 

He turn'd Loves wanton god, and so do you. 30 

(17) prayer 'S2. (20) .] , '40, '43, '52. (27) Cupid '4i, S. 



To a painted Mistresse. 

THere are who know what once to day it was; 
Your eyes, your Conscience, and your morning 
glasse; 
How durst you venture that adulterate part 
Belabour'd with your fucus, and best Art 
To the rude breath of every rash salute.? 5 

What did your profer whisper? expect suit? 
You were too pliant with your ear, you wisht 
Pomatum and Vermillion might be kiss'd, 

(4) Fucus '43. ff. (7) ,] ; '68. 

(6) f] ; '68. (8) Pomatum and Vermillion '43, ff. ,] ; '68. 



POEMS 199 

That lip, that cheek by man was never known, 
Those favours you bestow are not your own. 10 

Hence forth such kisses I'le defie, Hke Thee, 
Which druggists sell to you, and you to me. 

(9) known; '68. 



To his well Timbred Mistresse. 

SWeet, heard you not fames latest breath rehearse 
How I left hewing blocks to hack at Verse, 
Now grown the Master-Log, while others be 
But shavings and the chips of Poetry. 
And thus I Saw Deal-boards of beauty forth, s 

To make my Love a Warehouse of her worth. 
Her leggs are heart of Oak, and columns stand 
To bear the amorous bulk; then Muse command 
That Beech be work'd for thighes unto those legs, 
Turn'd round and carv'd, and joynted fast with pegs.io 
Contrive her belly round, a dining roome. 
Where Love and Beauty will a feasting come. 
Another story make from wast to chin 
With breasts like Pots to nest young sparrows in; 
Then place the Garret of her head above, iS 

Thatcht with a yellow hair to keep in Love. 
Thus have I finisht Beauties master prize 
Were but the Glasier here to make her eyes. 
Then Muse her out-works henceforth cease to raise 
To work within, and wainscot her with praise. 20 

(2) at] a '43, fT. (18) here] neer '52. 

(10) joynted] joyned '43, flF. (19) henceforth] om. '43, '52. 



200 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



On six Maids bathing themselves in a River. 

WHen bashful! Day-light now was gone, 
And Night that hides a blush came on. 
Six pretty Nymphs to wash away 
The sweating of a summers-day, 

In Chains fair streams did gently swim 5 

And naked bathe each curious limbe. 
O who had this blest sight but seen 
Would think that they had Clcelias been. 

A Scholler that a walk did take 
(Perchance for meditation sake) 10 

This better object chanc'd to finde, 
Straight all things else were out of minde; 
What better study in this life, 
For Practick or Contemplative? 

He thought, poor soul, what he had seen 15 

Diana and her Nymphs had been. 
And therefore thought in piteous fear 
Acteons fortunes had been near. 
Or that the water-Nymphs they were 
Together met to sport them there. 20 

And that to him such love they bore 
As unto Hilas once before. 

What could he think but that his eye 
Six Nymphs at once did there espie 
Rise from the waves? Or that perchance 25 

Fresh-water Syrens came to dance 
Upon the stream with tongue and look 
To tempt poor Schollers from their book? 

(i) ,] • '43- (14) ?] • '40, '43. 'S2- 

(S) did] stid '43. (17) in] it '68. " (20) .] : '68. 



POEMS 20I 

He could not think they Graces were 

Because their numbers doubled are. 30 

Nor can he think they Muses be 

Because (alas) there wanted three. 

I should have rather guest that there 
Another brood of Helens were, 

Begot by Jove upon the plains, 35 

Hatch'd by some Leda of the swans. 
The maids betrai'd were in a fright 
And blusht, but 'twas not seen by night. 
At last all by the bank did stand, 
And he (kind heart) lent them his hand. 40 

Where 'twas his blisse to feel all o're 
Soft paps, smooth thighes, and some thing more. 
But envious night hid from his eyes 
The place where love and pleasure lies. 

Guesse lovers guesse, guesse you that dare 45 

What then might be this SchoUers prayer. 
That he had been a Cat to spy, 
Or had he now Tiberius eye. 
Yet since his wishes were in vain 

He helpt them d'on their clothes again, 50 

Makes promise there should none be shent, 
So with them to the Tavern went. 
How they all night did sport and play 
Pardon my Muse, I dare not say; 
Guesse you that have a minde to know 55 

Whether he were a fool or no. 

(35-36) Not in the old editions, but printed by Hazlitt from the Scatter good MS. 
in the Huth Library. 

(42) something '52, ff. 

(43) Indented in '40. 

(S4) ;] . '40, '43. '52- 



202 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



The Wedding Morne. 

A Rise, come forth, but never to return 
To the same Center, 'tis thy virgin Urn, 
Bury it in those thoughts which did possesse 
Thee from thy Cradle, 'till this happinesse; 
Which but to think upon will make they cheek, 5 
Fairer then is the morn you so much seek 
In beauty to outvy; and be the pride 
Of all that ever had the name of bride. 
Up Maids and let your nimble fingers be 
True instruments of curiosity: 10 

Set not a pin amisse, nor let a pleat 
Be folded in her gown but whats in state, 
And when her Ivory Temples you would deck 
Forbear your Art, for Nature gives you check. 
There in the circuit of her radiant haire 15 

See Cupid fetter'd in a golden snare. 
Marke the triumphant Throne wherein the Boy 
Installed sits to give the Bridegroom Joy. 
But when shees drest and that her listning ear 
Is welcom'd by the Bridegrooms being neer, 20 

Look how she stands and how her stedfast eye 
Is fix'd on him at's first discovery. 
Both being met, mark how their souls do strive 
To be in eithers joy contemplative. 
Whose kisses raise betwixt them such a fire 25 

That should the Phoenix see, he to expire 
Would shun the spicy mountain, and so take 
Himself between their lips a grave to make. 

(2) thy] the '64, '68. 
(16) Cupid '43, S. 
{19) and] om. '68. 



POEMS 203 



In praise of Woemen in Generall. 

HE is a Paricide to his mother's name, 
And with an impious hand murthers her fame, 
That wrongs the praise of women, that dares write 
Libels on Saints, or with foul ink requite 
The milk they lent us: Better Sex command 5 

To your defence my more religious hand 
At sword, or Pen; yours was the nobler birth, 
For you of man were made, man but of earth, 
The son of dust; and though your sin did breed 
His fall, again you rais'd him in your seed. 10 

Adam in's sleep a gainfull losse sustain'd 
That for one rib a better selfe regain'd. 
Who had he not your blest creation seen, 
An Anchorite in Paradise had been. 
Why in this work did the creation rest 15 

But that eternall providence thought you best 
Of all his six dayes labour: beasts should do 
Homage to man, but man should wait on you. 
You are of comlier sight, of daintier touch, 
A tender flesh, a colour bright, and such 20 

As Parians see in marble, skin more fair. 
More glorious head, and far more glorious hair, 
Eyes full of grace, and quicknesse, purer roses 
Blush in your cheeks, a milder white composes 
Your stately fronts, your breath more sweet then his 25 
Breaths spice, and Nectar drops at every kisse. 
Your skins are smooth, bristles on theirs do grow 
Like quills of Pocupins, rough wooU doth flow 

(7) yours] ours '40, '43, '52, '64 was] is '52. 

(9) Sun '68. (i\) Adam'A%,S. 



204 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

O're all their faces, you approach more near 

The form of angels; they like beasts appear: 30 

If then in bodies where the souls do dwell 

You better us, do then our souls excell? 

No; we in souls equall perfection see. 

There can in them nor male nor female be. 

Boast we of knowledge? you have more then we 35 

You were the first ventur'd to pluck the tree. 

And that more Rhetorick in your tongues doth ly 

Let him dispute against that dares deny 

Your least commands; and not perswaded be 

With Sampsons strength, and Davids pietie, 40 

To be your willing Captives; vertue sure 

Were blinde as fortune, should she choose the poor 

Rough cottage man to live in, and despise 

To dwell in you the stately edifice. 

Thus you are prov'd the better sex, and we 45 

Must all repent that in our Pedigree 

We choose the fathers name, where should we take 

The mothers, a more honour'd blood, 'twould make 

Our generation sure, and certain be. 

And Fde beleeve some faith in Heraldry! 50 

Thus perfect Creatures if detraction rise 

Against your sex dispute but with your eyes, 

Your hand, your lip, your brow, there will be sent 

So subtile and so strong an argument 

Will teach the Stoick his affection too, 55 

And call the Cinick from his Tub to woo. 

Thus mustring up your beauteous troops, go on 

The fairest is the valiant Amazon. 

(37) doth] do '68. 
(46) Pedigree. '43, '52. 



POEMS 205 

To M. I. S. on his Gratefull Servant. 

T Cannot fulminate or tonitruate words, 

-*■ To puzzle intellects, my ninth lasse affords 

No Lycophronian buskins, nor can strain 

Garagantuan lines to Gigantize thy vein, 

Nor make a jus jurand, that thy great plaies 5 

Are terr'del fo-gos, or incognitaes; 

Thy Pegasus in his admir'd careere. 

Curvets no Capreols of Nonsence here. 

(3) sycophronian G. S. '37. (6) terra del fo'gods G. S. '37. 

(4) Garaganturn '43 Garaganturne '52. (8) no] on G. S. '37. Non-sence '68- 



WOnder not friend, that I do entertain 
Such language, that both think & speak so 
plain. 10 

Know, I applaud thy smooth and even strains, 
That will inform, and not confound our brains. 
Thy Helicon, like a smooth stream doth flow. 
While others with disturbed channels go. 
And headlong, like Niles Cataracts do fall 15 

With a huge noyse, and yet not heard at all. 
When thy intelligence on the Cock-pit stage 
Gives it a soul from the immortall rage 
I hear the Muses birds with full delight 
Sing where the birds of Mars were wont to fight: 20 
Nor flatter I, thou knowest I do abhor it; 
Let others praise thy Play, He love thee for it; 
That he that knows my friend shall say, he has 
A friend as Gratefull as his Servant was. 

(is) Nile Cataracts G. S. 37. 

(22) rie '43, ff. 

The poem is signed Tho. Randolph, in G. S. '37. 



POEMS 

MORE OR LESS DOUBTFUL 

not in any of the early editions of Randolph; 
added from various sources. 



The Towns-mens Petition of Cambridge} 

NOw Scholars, look unto it, 
For you will all be undon, 
For the last week, you know it. 

The Towns-men rid to London: 
The Mayor, if he thrives, 5 

Hath promised, on his word, 
The King a pair of Knives, 

If he'll give him a Sword, 
That he may put the Beadles down, 

And walk in worship here, lo 

And kill all Scholars in the Town 

That thus do domineer. 
And then unto the Court 

They do themselves repair. 
To make the King some sport, 15 

And all his Nobles there. 
He down upon his knee. 

Both he and they together: 
A Sword, he cryes, good King, give me, 

That I may cut a feather. 20 

There's none at all I have at home, 

Will fit my hand I swear; 
But one of yours will best become 

A Sword to domineer. 
These Scholars keep such wreaks, 25 

As makes us all afeard, 

* From the Crnve of Kind London Gossips, 1662, where it is credited to "T. 
Randolph." 

209 



210 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

That if to them a Towns-man speaks, 

They will pull off his beard: 
But if your Grace such licence gives, 

Then let us all be dead, 30 

If each of us had not as lieve 

He should pull off his head. 
They call us silly drunkards too; 

We know not why, nor where; 
All this, and more than this, they do, 35 

'Cause they will domineer. 
A speech if I do make. 

That hath much learning in't, 
A Scholar comes to take. 

And set it out in print; 40 

We dare not touch them for our lives, 

Good King, have pity on us! 
For first they play upon our Wives, 

And then make songs upon us. 
Would we have power to put, 45 

And turn on them the jeer. 
Then we would do the best we could, 

But we would domineer. 
They stand much on their wit, 

We know not what it is 50 

But surely had we liked it. 

We had got some of this. 
But since it will no better be, 

We are constrain'd to frame 
Petitions to your Majesty, 55 

These witty ones to tame. 
A sword would scare them all, I say. 

And put them in great fear; 



POEMS 211 

A Sword of you, good King, we pray, 

That we may domineer: 60 

Which, if your Grace permits, 

Wee'll make them look about 'um; 
But yet they have such pleasant wits, 

We cannot Hve without 'um. 
They have such pretty arguments, 65 

To run upon our score; 
They say fair words, and good intents 

Are worth twice as much more. 
And that a clown is highly grac't, 

To sit a Scholar near; 70 

And thus we are like fools out-fac't, 

And they do domineer. 
But if you will renew 

To us your Grace's Charter, 
Wee'l give a ribbon blew 75 

To some Knight of the Garter. 
A cap also we want. 

And Maintenance much more. 
And yet those Scholars brag and vaunt 

As if they had good store. 80 

But not a penny we can see, 

Save once in twice 7 year: 
They say it is no policy. 

Drunkards should domineer. 
Now reason, reason cries, Alas 85 

Good Lord-lings, mark it well, 
A Scholar told me that it was 

A perfect parallel. 
Their case and ours so equal stand 

As in a way-scale true, 90 



212 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

A pound of Candles on each hand, 

Will neither higher shew. 
Then, prethee listen to my speech. 

As thou shalt after hear: 
And then I doubt it not, my Liege, 95 

But we shall domineer. 
Vice-Chancellors they have 

And we have Mayors wise, 
With Proctors and with Taskers grave. 

Our BaylifFs you may size: 100 

Their silver Staves keep much adoe. 

Much more our silver Maces; 
And some think, that our Serjeant too 

Their Beadle-Squires out-faces. 
And if we had a Sword I think 105 

Along the street to bear, 
'Twould make the proudest of them shrink, 

And we should domineer: 
They've Patrons of Nobility, 

And we have our partakers; no 

They've Doctors of Divinity, 

And we have Basket-makers: 
Their Heads, our brethren dear, 

Their Fellows, our householders; 
Shall match them, and we think to bear 115 

Them down by head and shoulders. 
A Sword give us, O king, we pray. 

That we may top them there; 
Since every Dog must have its day, 

Let us once domineer. 120 

When they had made the King to laugh, 

And see one kiss his hand; 



POEMS 213 

Then little mirth they make, as if 

His mind they understand. 
Avoid the room, an Usher cryes, 125 

The King will private sup: 
And so they all came down like fools, 

As they before went up. 
They cry'd God bless his Majesty; 

And then no doubt they sware, 130 

They'l have the Town made a City, 

And here so domineer. 
But wot ye what the King did think, 

And what his meaning was; 
I vow unto you by this drink, 135 

A rare device he has: 
His Majesty hath pen'd it, 

That they'l be ne're the better: 
And so he means to send it. 

All in a Latine Letter, 140 

Which when it comes for to be read. 

It plainly will appear, 
The Towns-men they must hang the head, 

And the Scholars must domineer. 



On the Fall oj the Mitre Tavern in Cambridge} 



LAment, lament, ye Scholars all. 
Each wear his blackest Gown; 
The Mitre that held up your wits. 
Is now itself fain down. 



1 From the Crewe of Kind London Gossips, 1662, where, however, no author's 
name is given, and it is not divided into stanzas. See notes. 



214 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

The dismal fire of Zowi/on-Brldge, 5 

Can move no heart of mine: 
For that but o're the water stood, 

But this stood o're the wine. 

It needs must melt, each Christians heart. 

That this sad newes but hears. 10 

To think how the sad Hogsheads wept 
Good Sack and Claret tears. 

The zealous Students of the place 

Change of Religion fear. 
Lest this mishap may chance bring in 15 

The heresie of Beer. 

Unhappy Mitre! I would know 

The cause of this sad hap: 
Came it by making legs too low 

To Pembrook's Cardinals Cap? 20 

Then know thy self, and cringe no more, 

Since Popery went down. 
That Cap must vail to thee, for now 

The Mitre's next the Crown. 

Or was't, because our company 25 

Did not frequent thy Cell 
As we were wont, to cure these cares, 

Thou fox'dst thy self and fell? 

No sure, the Devil was adry. 

And caus'd a fatal blow; 30 

'Twas he that made the Cellar sink, 

That he might drink below. 



POEMS 



Yet, though some say, the Devil did it, 
'Cause he might drink up all. 

I rather think the Pope was drunk, 
And let his Mitre fall. 



215 



35 



Lament, ye Eaton-con]\xrexs, 

Because your lack of knowledge 
To let a Tavern fall that stood 

On the walls of your Colledge. 40 

Let the Rose with the Falcon molt, 

Whiles Sam enjoyes his wishes: 
The Dolphin too must cast her Crown, 

Wine was not made for Fishes. 



That Sign a Tavern best befits. 

Which shews who loves Wine best; 

The Mitre's then the only Sign, 
For that's the Scholar's crest. 

Then drink Sack Sam, and cheer thy heart. 

Be not dismaid at all; 
For we will drink it up again. 

Though our selves de catch a fall, 

Wee'll be thy workmen day and night, 
In spight of bugbear-Proctors, 

We drank like fresh-men all before. 
But now wee'll drink like Doctors. 



45 



50 



55 



2l6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



Annagram. Virtue alone thy Blisse} 

Descent of birth is a vaine good 

Doubtfully sprung from others bloud, 

Wealth, though it be the worldlings baite, 

Wise men but use to make up weight: 

Witt in a woman I scarce know 5 

Whether it be a praise or no: 

Beautie's a glorious flower, but gone 

And wither'd ere the spring be done: 

All those thou dost as Jewells weare, 

But more thine owne perfections are; 10 

For thine a nobler bloud shall bee 

Whose pure descent flowes but from thee; 

Thy wealth is goodnesse, such a store 

As is more pretious then the oare 

That loades the yeerely fleetes of Spayne, 15 

For which the naked Indians slayne; 

Thy witt soe chaste, thou mights't have beene 

Not Sapho, but the Sheba Queene: 

A beauty thou thy selfe hast made 

Whose Rose and Lilly shall not fade, 20 

Sett in the soule not in the face, 

That garden is a fading place; 

In thee both soule and body are 

Equally noble rich, and faire. 

Outward, and inward graces kisse, 25 

Cause, virtue is alone thy blisse; 

Nor is this stollne, or borrowed fame, 

Thy praise is all thine owne, thy name. 

From Harl. MS. 6917, where it is credited to T: Randolph. 



POEMS 217 



An Epithalamium} 

Bliss court thee sweetest soule, and fall soe thick 

That It outwit or pose arithmetick. 

'Mongst all those ioyes which from the holy shrine 

As you return'd the virgins gave, lett mine 

I pray have entertainment, for they come 5 

To sing in your Epithalamium. 

prove soe happy in thy nuptiall. 

That when beleaguerd, slow-faith virgins shall 

Cruelly deliberate, and refuse 

The rights of Hymen, all our youths may use 10 

This rare stratigem, tell them but a story 

Of thy blest bridall's fortune, and their glory 

Which must so hale them, that they straight will be 

All wives in hope to be as blest as thee. 

Heauen send a sweet-fac't heire, a chopping boy, 15 
To make thee sport at home, O what ioy 
T'would be to view both your portraictures done 
Soe rarly to the life, and that in one, 
Soe small a peice, then if the worke be showne 
This would commend you most, it is your owne. 20 
Pardon I can't expresse the thousand blisse 

1 wish you but the summe of all is this. 
lie pray thou may soe happy be; 

As thy best honour'd bedman is in thee. 

Except but heaven, and he that more would speake 25 

I say, need's his expression must be weake. 

* From Addit. MS. ii,8ii, where it is credited to Thomas Randolph. 



2l8 THOMAS RANDOLPH 



On a maide of honour seen by a scollar in sommerset 
garden} 

As once in blacke I disrespected walk't, 

Where glittering courtiers in their tissues stalk't, 

I cast by chaunce my melancholy eye, 

Upon a woman (as I thought) pass'd by. 

But when I veiw'd her ruffe and beaver reard 5 

As if Priapus-like she would have feard, 

The ravenous Harpyes from the clustred grape, 

Then I began much to mistrust her shape; 

When veiwing curiously, away she slipt, 

And in a fount her whited hande she dipt. 10 

The angry water as if wrong'd thereby, 

Ranne murmuring thence a second touch to fly, 

At which away she stalkes, and as she goes 

She viewes the situation of each rose; 

And having higher rays'd her gowne, she gaz'd 15 

Upon her crimson stocking, which amaz'd 

Blusht at her open impudence, and sent 

Reflection to her cheeke, for punishment. 

As thus I stood the gard'ner chaunce to pass. 

My frend (quoth I) what is this stately lasse. 20 

A maide of honour S"^ said he, and goes away, 

Drawing a riddle, was enough to pose 

The crafty Oedipus, for I could 

Nor mayde, nor honour, sure no honesty. 

• From Addit. MS. Ii,8il, where it is credited to Thomas Randolph. 
(23) Hazlitt adds [see] which is very probably correct. 



POEMS 219 



Epigram.^ 



Heavens decreed, before the world begun, 
That such fair beauty should not live a nun; 
But if thou needs this vow wilt undertake, 
I wish my arms a cloister for thy sake. 



[7*0 Richard Weston.^ ^ 

Although your Lordshipps happy annagram 
give you of hard and honest both the name 
yet let that hand (I pray you) fall on mee 
gently, and pay mee with your honesty. 



y^ letter to his Mistresse.^ 

Goe happy Paper by Command, 

Take liberty to kisse a Hand 

More white than any part of thee. 

Although with spotts thou graced bee. 

The glorie of the chiefest day, 5 

The morning Aire perfum'd in May, 

The first born Rose of all the Spring, 

The Down beneath the Turtles Wing. 

A Lute just reaching to the Eare 

Whatere is soft, is sweet, is faire 10 

Are but her shredds who fills the place 

And Sume of every Single grace. 

• Printed by Hazlitt from the Scattergood MS. formerly in the collection of 
Mr. Henry Huth. 

• From the fly-leaf of the British Museum copy of the 1638 edition of the Poems. 
It is there credited to "Tho Randolph." 

• From Addit. MS. 22,602, where it is credited to T. Randall. 



220 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

As in a Child the Nurse descries 
The Mothers Lips, the Fathers Eyes, 
The Uncles Nose, & doth apply 15 

Honors to every part, So I 
In her could Analise the Store, 
Of all that choice e're Nature wore 
Each Private piece to mind may call 
Some Earth, but none can match it all. 20 

Poore Emblemes, they, can but expresse 
One Element of Comelynesse. 
None are so rich to shew in One 
All Samples of Perfection. 

Nor can the Pencill represent 25 

More than the Outward Lineament. 
Then who can lime the portraitour 
Of beauties live Behaviour? 
Or what can figure evry kind 

Of Jewell that adorns her mind ? 30 

Thought cannot draw her picture full, 
Each thought to Her is grosse & dull. 

The Character of a Perfect Woman} 

Apelles curious eye must gaze upon 

all beauties, and from choice of all make one; 

Thais must lend a lipp, Lais a cheeke, 

then for a browe we must Oenone seeke. 

Spoyle Hermia for a nose, ravish an eye 5 

from Helen, and from Omphale snatch a thighe: 

Stopp Atalanta in her nimble race 

to borrow Leggs, and parcell of her face; 

1 From Harl. MS. 6918, where it is credited to T. R. closely following other 
poems which are by Randolph. 



POEMS 221 

robbe Ledaes twinns, and Venus breast must weare, 

and cozen Ariadne of her haire; lo 

wee make no shape nor to encrease our store 

of beauty, tane on trust; leave others poore. 

Like such as thrive by breaking; this is she 

of whom the double faire Penelope 

Lucrece, and Pallas all but copies are ij 

and not examples; this is that one rare 

Eternall forme of woman, which we finde 

platonick dreame in none but in the minde. 

of the great workeman, by which he creates 

the rest oth' se?e, and as their severall fates 20 

gives them like her th'are blest, their excellence 

brings but reflection of a light from hence: 

Soe perfect as if natures care had beene 

To fitt the Inne a guest, the Guest an Inne: 

Her soule and body equally divine, 25 

never dwelt holyer saint in statelier shrine; 

in every member some great vertue lives 

that like the soule informes the part, and gives 

his heaven a motion, that they all appeare 

Soe many Angells in their proper Spheare: 30 

I will not say her hairs are finest wires 

of gold or silver (dross the world admires) 

nor silkewormes coyles spunne by a subtle thread 

but they are crownes of rayes throwne round her head. 

Beames that shoote glory forth, by whose bright shine 

we know the orbe the circle is divine: 36 

Her browe is fairer than the parian stone 

Fitt to make Altars on, where in a throne 

Sitts maiesty triumphant, in her hand 

She beares a powerfull scepter to command, 40 

(36) Thus in MS.; probably intended for] they circle. 



222 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

and checke proud mortalls whose bold hopes might 

bee 
such gyants as to court Divinitye; 
Under the Lidd that Canopies her eyes 
pure bashfullnesse in mayden curtaines lyes, 
from which, as morning, breakes a double sunne 45 
more bright than eagles dare to gaze upon; 
Which when in Zeale they fixe on heaven, and then 
Deigne to bestow a lower looke on men, 
amazed in my thoughts I know not whether 
they kindle more heate here, or send more thither 50 
Which though in us some wanton flames they move, 
againe their brightness curbes ambitious Love; 
As misty fogges which into clouds are swelld 
by the same heate that raised them are dispelld; 
View in her cheekes pure bloud, nere tainted more 55 
than what an apple surfetted long before. 
And that refined, that in those christall tydes 
but little of originall blott resides; 
There modesty her virgin pallace keepes, 
behold yon bed of roses where she sleepes, 60 

Looke on that blush, for nought her selfe hath done, 
her only shame is this that we have none; 
Her corrall lips for God and man prepare 
A stately banquet, then the Gods more rare; 
Where to a friend if curtesie graunt a kisse 65 

tis frost in hers, yet lightning shot from his; 
Within there runne two Ivory pales along, 
a needlesse fence for such a vertuous tongue 
Which are but as a guard to a good prince 
Not given for safety, but magnificence; 70 

When that Instrument that seldome speakes 
though all attend, unwellcome silence breaks, 



POEMS 223 

how admiration takes our eares, that bee 
so rapt they thinke the ayre turnd harmony; 
Who sees her fingers in their quaint device 75 

With cunning needle worke a paradise, 
Where flowers, and trees, beasts, fish, and fowle appear 
Would think that peece Arts first creation were; 
But when she takes her Lute, and strikes the strings 
themselves with wonder, at the hand that brings 80 
Divinity into them, you might see 
Each fowle, each fish, each beast, each flower, and tree 
runne from the worke, as if they orpheus heare, 
and to the hand that wrought them lend an eare; 
yet here another royall vertue dwells, 85 

her charity, that all the rest excells, 
and works of mercy in more plenty powres 
Than Ceres eares of wheate, or Jove his showres; 
Her waste is untoucht snow girt with a zone 89 

that bounds my course, as that in heaven the sunne; 
Let wanton pencills her hid parts expresse; 
the Sexe, and not perfection lyes in these; 
To shadow every part will pose my skill 
whose meditation is above my quill; 
She is the workemans glory, the creation 95 

knowes her a master-peece; mans admiration 
(though all his Limbes rebell) could not reveale 
to such perfection, so much love as zeale; 
She hath a heart of soe strange temper framed 
it cannot simply hard, or soft be named; 100 

the cause can make it Adamant, and then 
can melt that Adamant to waxe againe; 
And this is natures phoenix I presume 
that chastly lives and dyes in a perfume. 



224 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Ad Amicam} 

Sweet, doe not thy beauty wrong 
By thinking still thou art too young, 
The rose, & lilly in each cheeke 
Flourish, & noe more ripenesse seeke. 
Those flaming beames, shott from thine eye. 
Doe shew Loves Midsomer is nigh. 
Love's still young, & a buxome boy. 
And young things be allowed to toy, 
Then lose no time, for love hath wings. 
And flies away from aged things. 



[On the Book Fish.'] ^ 

If Fishes thus do bring us Books, then we 
May hope to equal Bodlyes Library. 



On M^ parson Organist of Westminster Ahhye.^ 

Death passing by, and hearing parsons play 

Stood much Amazed at his depth of skill 

And said this Artist must with me away 

for Death bereaves us of the better still 

Yet let the Quire whils't hee keeps time sing on 

For Parsons rests his service being Done 

' From MS. Tanner, 465, where it is credited to T. R. 

' From Fuller's Worthies of England. 

• From MS. Ashmole 38, where it is credited to Th. Randall. 



POEMS 225 

\jOn William Lawrencer\ ^ 

With diligence and trust most exemplary 

Did WILLIAM LAVRENCE serve a Prebendary; 

And for his Paines now past, before not lost, 

Gain'd this Remembrance at his Masters cost. 

O reade these Lines againe; you seldome find 

A Servant faithfull and a Master kind. 

Short Hand he wrote; his Flowre in prime did fade. 

And hasty Death Short Hand of him hath made. 

Well covth he Nv'bers and well mesur'ed Land; 

Thvs doth he now that Grovnd where on yov stand. 

Wherein he lyes so Geometricall; 

Art maketh some, but thvs will Nature all. 



Randolph his answer to some merry companion ^ 

From all the ills that I have done. Lord, quit me out 

of hand. 
And make me not a scorne to fools that nothing 

understand. 



[^Randolph's answer to the " Sons of Ben."'] ^ 

I John Bo peep, to you four sheep. 

With each one his good fleece. 
If that you are willing to give me five shilling, 

'Tis fifteen pence a piece. 

1 From a transcription of Laurence's epitaph given in Bradley's IVestminster 
Abbey. The version given by Aubrey is slightly different. 

* Printed by Hazlitt from the MS. commonplace-book of Henry Oxinden of 
Barham, 1647. 

' From Winstanley's life of Randolph. 



226 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Praeludium} 

Gen: Ho! Histrio! I thought a presse had swallowed 
you all, tis so long since I saw a Comedie: 
have you not for want of exercise forgot your 
quality? Can you stroddle as wide, & talke 
as loud as you were wont to doe? 5 

Histr; Wee will Sir stretch legs & mouth to do you 
service; though in this dead vacation the one 
hath beene onely employd in the to'thers 
errands; the feete had little else to do but to 
walke away the stomacke — 10 

Gen: Well I am glad the gagg is out of your mouth; 
we have had a great dearth of witt all over 
the tavernes & ordinaryes, for want of new 
words, & had you ben longer supprest, we 
must either have new studyed Euphues, or 15 
return'd to Greene-s Arcadia, or have cald in 
fidlers & said nothing — Drinking in silence 
wou'd have come up againe. 

Hist. It has beene a wretched time with us I'me 

sure all over the towne; such an alteration 20 
cleane through 'um a fellow that has been big 
enough to play Hercules, is fallen away so 
many Cubitts, all the cloths in our wardrope 
will not stufFe him up to the stature — a paire 
of silke stockings serv'd six of 'um from June 25 
to October — another had nothing to eat for 
a fortnight togeather but a propertie buckler. 

Gent. Hard of digestion! what play have you today? 

Hist. One newly reviv'd, the Hungry Courtier: 

1 From Addit. MS. 37,425, where it is marked "T Randall after the last Pro- 
logue" in a hand which another note says is that of " Ld. Ch. Clarendon." 



POEMS 227 

Gent. the hungry Courtier — no — let it be the 30 
hungry plaier — I would not sit on any stage 
'ith towne this twelve-month, for if they gape 
as wide as they usd to doe, I should suspect 
a further danger — there is nigh occasion to 
feare the Actors will devoure the audience — 35 
what think you of a play nothing but ghosts? 
would it not be excellently fitted for the per- 
sons? Never a comedy where a pudding is 
eaten? or bowleing with penny loaves? o for 
a yeoman of the guard's part at a chine of 40 
beef! I would hardly trust thee at one of your 
woodden pyes: — faith how have you liv'd? 
Does the Lady at fifty hold out? prethee show 
me how & by what miracle you have beene 
preserv'd — 
Hist. Faith Sir, Tie tell you — some of us have 
beg'd in blanke verse; others have acted Tam- 
berlaine to a butcher & spoke themselves 'oth 
score for a sheepshead — many have peeped 
into roomes like fidlers, Gentlemen will you 50 
have any speeches — 
Gent. Oh prethee now let me see that 
His. If you will give us a supper I doe thinke I 

shall persuade 'um too't. 
Gent. With all my heart; in troth I pitty their 55 
miseryes — wee feed & cloth them with monyes, 
& they Line us with wit. what — easily per- 
suaded — 
His. I sir, looke you this is a great Captaine. 

Ent. Captaine 60 

Frost ceize my bloud if I can beare the dov 
were I a pigmie, twould exalt my wrath 



228 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

to gyant bignesse resolution 

awake & rise put on thy cloaths of fury 
And draw thy sword & march along with 65 
mee. 

Gent. Call for the traine band, sure hee'l take the 
towne. 

Cap. Fix't is my will & danger doe thy worst — 

were bones of matrons & the sculls of 70 

virgins 
vanishd & slaughterd, built into a bullwarke 
I would goe on spight of the muskets teeth 
The Canons mouth, or Jaw of Culverin. 
Death meet me in the horridst face thou hast 75 
Jove set thy thunders to oppose my ayme 
Mars & Bellona fyery daggers draw 
yet I resolve as men of valour should 
To tast & eat this peice of pasty crust. 

Gent. A desperate peice of service — I would make 80 
him a Captaine at least, if I meant to assault 
a cupbord, or beseidge an Alms-tub — here — 
eat — 

Hist. Sir I have seene others then plaiers this dead 

time not very fatt; twas a Lent with us, & I 85 
beleive an Ember weeke with some of you; 
when you have kept your Frydayes two or 
three days together; wee have mett you some 
times, & fasted fowre in a messe at hospitable 
Humphreys — 90 

But here comes a Lover 

Lover Ah Cruell Cupid well I knew thy flames 
happy I liv'd — now I lament & water 
Earth with my teares; the winds have heard 
my sighs, 95 



POEMS 229 

and mountaines eccho-d with perpetuall 

grones, 
the nightingale listning to my complaints 
sings out of tune, & beares a part with mee 
And canst thou bee so cruell, when I languish 100 
In flames of thy affection — gentle death 
Lend me thy curteous hand, o learne not thou 
Scorne & disdaine from him; Sir in what desert 
or wildernesse were you brought up ? what Tyger 
Leopard or Lyonesse suckled you with bloud. 105 
That you can bee so savadge to deny 
Your poore despaireing Thisbe, halfe a crowne 
To vampe her bootes. 

Gent. It breeds compunction in mee — alas poore 

Lady — have you any more Inhabitants of the no 
land of famine? 

His. Yes Sir here they are — 2 Rovers — brothers 

of the knife that have fallen out, who shall eat 
tothers nose first — ■ you know the meaning 
— the quarrell must bee taken up — 115 

And let it bee at your charge. 

Gen. At my charge? o I understand you. 

1 Rov. I will unnose thy face; sowce up thy cheekes 

& cut thy body into fleetch & gammon — 

2 yield mee a chine, a surloine, & a shoulder 120 
or I will ceeze the rest in sutt & smoke. 

1 then sword supply revenge.^ 

2 Dy then, & bee in brawny collars boyld 

bore as thou art. 

1 wilt thou yield up a legg? 125 

2 For I must carve thee. 

' After this line there is in the MS. part of another one which has become inde- 
cipherable. 



23 O THOMAS RANDOLPH 

1 Not the least of pestes. 

2 A wing will serve. 

1 Noe, if thou meane escape 

resigne a collop. if not so, to pott, 130 

2 sword cutt, & send him to the dressing bord. 
Gent, what doe you meane. Gentlemen! pray be not 

so earnest in theise unciville quarrelle — 

1 Sir thinke not by persuasion to controwle 

my thirsty Steele; it must have bloud & 135 

drink — 

2 thinke not Leane Rhetorique can abate the edge 
of hungry blade, it must have flesh & feed. 

Gent. I know you have both good stomacks — pray 

bee reconcil'd — walke downe the stayres, 140 

& chew the cud with my servingmen. 

1 then sword to sleepe in scabbard — knife awake 

2 thou art by miracle preserved — all freinds 
Say grace a forehand, least it breed delay. 

I I cannot haveing said none many a day. 145 

Gent. This is well ended — so & how have you 

liv'd what Chamelion shar'd Commons with 
you? what speech have you knawed on.? 

His. faith my gutts are noe great storers, a little 

serves mee, and you seldome heard a pismire 150 
complaine of a dearth o'Corne yet — 

Gent. Who's this.? how has he liv'd.? 

His. He has liv'd by speaking the prologue to this 
play: he might ha' done penance too, had not 
that discharged his ordinary on a desperate 155 
day — 

Gent. I shall heare that in the cockpit, well you 
shall sup with me; He send my boy to be- 
speake one dish. 



POEMS 231 

His. An oxe, with a pudding in's belly, & per- 160 
chance for second course a dozen of calves in 
a dish, & so I shall expect you. 



{The City of London.'} ^ 

O fortunate Citie reioyce in thy Fate 
That hast so religious a Magistrate 
Oh Jonas the 2" is sent unto thee 
As Jonas the first to old Ninvee 

Thou poenitat Citie of London S 

Divinitie means to cure all soules 

And Charitie means to repaire old Powles 

The Clergie & Laytie lovingly meete 

Th' one sweeps the Conscience the other the Street 

In the cleanly Citie of London 10 

Each Citizen unto the Prison is borne 
That every night will not hang out his horn 
Yet spare all your Candles, good Providence might 
And hang out their wives that are surely as light 

In the delicate City of London. iS 

Know this good magistrate hath a command 
In Middlesex London & chering & Strand 
O with what sins, with what sins are w'opprest 
When the Mayor on the Sabbath can take no rest 

In Westminster nor in London 20 



• From MS. Rawl. 62. It is credited in the margin to " Randall " in what seems 
to be a later hand. 



232 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Sobriety then shall arise some think 
That no man soe late in the night shall have drink 
Yet then good fellows retain your old crimes 
Rise early good fellows & be drunk betimes 

In the temperate Citty of London 25 

Authoritie now smites us noe more 
To drinke in a Taverne, or speake with a whore 
The late proclamation was go good sense 
That banisht away all Gentlemen hence 

From the chargeable Citie of London 30 

The Bankside is honest & Bloomsbury Chasse 
The Ladies turn'd carefull & look to the Wast 
Nor can we now Beershops in Turnbull Street see 
No Bawdy house now but St. Anthlins shall bee 

In the Puritan Citie of London 35 

a8 go] thus in MS.; perhaps intended for] so. 



Iliw ~ 1 



AMYNTAS 

OR THE 

IMPOSSIBLE DOWRY. 

A PASTORALL ACTED 

before the K tn g 2c Qu e £ n e 

at White-Han, 



Written by Thomas Randolph. 

Ptfiortntftitfre^fingutt 
Pafcert eforttt $vcs^ diduiftim dicer t Carmen, 




OXFORD, 

Printed by LetnardLichfeld, for FnncU 



Drammatis Persona. 

Pilumnus. The high Priest of Ceres: Father to Damon 

and Vrania. 
Medorus. Father to Laurinda. 
Claius. A wild Sylvan, father to Amyntas and 5 

Amaryllis. 
Corymbus. An under Priest. 
Damon. 



., . I Two Rivalls in Laurinda's Love 
Alexis 

Amyntas. A mad Sheapheard. 10 

Laurinda. A wavering Nymph. 

Vrania. A sad Nymph, enamoured on Amyntas. 

Amarillis. A distressed sheapheardesse, in love with 

Damon. 

Thestylis. An old Nymph, sister to Claius. 15 

locastus. A fantastique sheapheard & fairy Knight. 

Bromius. His man, a blunt Clowne. 

Mopsus. A foolish Augur enamoured on Thestylis. 

Dorylas. A knavish boy. 

Echo. ao 

(Priests. 
Sheapheards. 
Nymphs. 
Quorum fit mentio, 
Philabus. 1 
Lalage. \ 
Mycon. J 

The Scene Sicilie, in the 
holy Vale. 

The time an Astrologicall day from 
Noone to Noone. 

(10) mand '40b, '52 man '62, '68. (16) &3 and a '40b, ff. 

234 



PROLOGVS. 




Nymph. Shepheard. 

Nym. J^I^YiT^^Le speak the Prologue. 

Sheap. Then you doe mee wrong. 
Nym. Why, dare your Sexe compare 
with ours for Tongue? 
Sheap. A Female Prologue! 

Nym. Yes, as well as Male. 

Shep. That's a new trick; 

Nym. And t'other is as stale. 

Shep. Men are more eloquent then women made: 5 
Nym. But women are more powrfull to perswade. 
Shep. It seemes so; for I dare no more contend. 
Nym. Then best give ore the strife, and make an end. 
Sheap. I will not yeeld. 

Nym. Shall we divide it then ? 

Sheap. You to the Woemen speak. 
Nym. You to the Men. 10 

Sheap. Gentlemen, looke not from us Rurall swains 
For polish'd speech, high lines, or Courtly straines: 
Expect not we should bring a labour'd Scene, 
Or complements; we ken not what they meane. 
Nym. And Ladies, we poore Country Girles doe 
come IS 

With such behaviour as we learn'd at home. 
23s 



236 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

How shall we talke to Nymphs so trim and gay. 
That nere saw Lady yet but at a May? 

She. His Muse is very bashful!, should you throw 
A Snake into her Cradle, I doe know 20 

She is no Hercules to outlive your Ire: 

Nym. One Hisse would make the fearfull foole expire. 
Without a sting. 

Shep. Gentlemen doe but you 

Like this, no matter what the Woemen doe. 

Nym. It was a sawcy Swaine thus to conclude! 25 

Ladies, the Gentlemen are not so rude. 
If they were ever school'd by powrefuU love, 
As to dislike the things you shall approve. 
If you but like him 'twill be greater praise 29 

Then if each Muse of Nine had fetch'd him Baies. 

(18) yet, '40b, ff. 




AMYNTAS. 



ACTVS I. SCENA I. 

Laurinda. Dorylas. 

^°^' l^ fe^ l r^^ Is newes Laurinda that will ravish youl 
\Laur. How, ravish mee? if't be such 
desperat newes 
I pray conceale it. 
Dor. So I will. 

Lau. Nay Dorylas^ 

Pray tell it though. 
Dor. Tis desperat newes, I dare not. 

Laur. But prithee doe. 
Dor. I must conceal it. 

Laur. Doe not. 5 

Dor. Mistresse, you have prevail'd: I will relate it. 
Laur. No matter though whether you doe or no. 
Dor. No ? then I will not tell you. 
Laur. Yet I care not 

Much if I heare it. 
Dor. And I care not much 

Whether I tell't or no. 
Laur. What is it? 

Dor. Nothing. 10 

(8) tell it '68. (9) !] ? '38. 



238 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Laur. Sweet Dorylas let me know. 
Dor. What pretty weather-cocks 

These women are! I serve a Mistresse here 
Fit to have made a Planet: sheele waxe and wane 
Twice in a minute. 
Laur. But good Dorylas 

Your newes. 
Dor. Why excellent Newes! 

Laur. But what? 

Dor. Rare newes! 15 

Newes fit, 

Laur. For what? 

Dor. To be conceal'd: why Mistresse 

The Rivalls, those on whom this Powerful! face 

Doth play the tyrant. 

Laur. Dorylas what of them ? 

Dor. Now, now shee wanes: O for a dainty Husband 

To make her a full Moone! The amorous 
couple! 20 

Your brace of sweet hearts Damon and Alexis 

Desire your audience. 
Lau. Is this all your newes? 

You may conceale it. 
Dor, Now you have heard it told 

I may conceale it! well I thank thee Nature 

Thou didst create me Man, for I want wit 25 

Enough to make up woman: but good Mistresse 

What doe you think of Damon? 
Laur. As a man 

Worthy the best of Nymphs. 
Dor. What of J lexis 

(is) Rare newes? '68. (17) Doth] Does '62, '68. 

(16), ] , '38 , '40a, '52. (20) . '38, couple, 'Si, ff. 



AMTNTAS 239 

Laur. As one that may deserve the fairest Virgin 

In Sicilie. 
Dor. What Virgin? 

Lau. Proserpine, 30 

Were shee yet Ceres daughter. 
Dor. And what Damon? 

Lau. Hee? C(?r<fj- selfe, were she not yet a Mother. 
Dor. Greet, Greet! There is no Labyrinth but a 
woman ! 

Laurinda, gentle Mistrese tell me which 

Of these you love? 
Lau. Why Damon best of any. 35 

Dor. Why so, that's well and plain. 
Lau. Except Alexis. 

Dor. Why then you love Alexis best? 
Lau. Of any. 

Dor. I am glad on't. 
Lau. But my Damon. 

Dor. Be this true 

And He be sworne Gupid is turn'd a jugler; 

PrcBsto! you love Alexis best but Damon, 40 

And Damon but Alexis! Love you Damon? 
Lau. I doe. 

Dor. And not Alexis? 

Lau. And Alexis. 

Dor. Shee would ha* both I thinke. 
Laur. Not I by Geres. 

Dor. Then you love neither? 

Lau. Yes, I doe love either. 45 

Dor. Either, and yet not both, both best, yet neither; 

Why doe you torture those with equall Racks, 

(28) .] : '38, '40a. (38) ont. '38, '40a, Lau.'\ Lvu. '38. 

(32) .] : '38. (40) Prestol '40b, ff. 

(36) Alexis '40a, £F. 



240 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

That both vow service to you? If your love 

Have prefer'd Damon, tell Alexis of it; 

Or if Alexis, let poore Damon know it, 

That he which is refus'd, smothering his flame, 50 

May make another choice, now doubtful! hope 

Kindles desires in both. 

Lau. Ah Dorylas, 

Thy yeares are yet uncapable of love! 
Thou hast not learn'd the mysteries of Cupid! 
Dost thou not see through all Sicilia, 55 

From gentlest sheapheards to the meanest swaines, 
What inauspitious torches Hymen lights 
At every wedding? what unfortunate hands 
Linke in the wedding ring? Nothing but feares, 
larres, discontents, suspicions, jealousies, 60 

These many yeares meet in the Bridall sheetes. 
Or if all these be missing, yet a Barrennesse, 
A curse as cruell, or Abortive births 
Are all the blessings crowne the Geniall bed! 
Till the successe prove happier, and I finde 65 

A blessed change, ile temper my affection, 
Conceale my flames, dissemble all my fires, 
And spend those yeares I owe to Love and Beauty 
Only in choosing on whose love to fixe 
My Love and beauty. 

Dor. Rare Feminine wisdome! 70 

Will you admit 'em. 

Lau. Yes, goe call them hither. 

Yet doe not, now I thinke on't: yet you may too; 
And yet come back againe. 

Dor. Nay I will goe. 

(so) smothering in his '68. (69) on] one '52. 

(52) desire '40a, ff. (70) !] : '38. 

(64) bed '40b, '52 bed. '68. 



AMTNTAS 241 

Lau. Why Dorylas. 

Dor. What newes? 

Lau. Come back I say. 

Dor. Yes, to be sent againe. 

Lau. You'l stay I hope. 75 

Dor. Not I by Ceres. 

Lau. Dorylas. 

Dor. No good Mistresse 

Farewell for I at length have learn'd to know 
You call me back only to bid mee goe. Exit. 

Lau. Tis no great matter sirrah : when they come 

He beare myselfe so equall unto both, 80 

As both shall thinke I love him best, this way 
I keepe both fires alive, that when I please 

I may take which I please. But who comes 

here ^. 

(8t) best, this way '40b, '52. 



SCEN. 2. 

Laurinda. Thestylis. 

O Thestylis y'are welcome! 
Thest. If Laurinda, 

My too abrupt intrusion come so rudely 

As to disturbe your private Meditations, 

I beg your pardon! 
Lau. How now Thestylis? 

Grown Orator of late? has learned Mopsus 

Read Rhetorique unto you, that you come 

To see me with Exordiums? 
Thest. No Laurinda; 

But if there be a charme call'd Rhetorique; 



242 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

An art, that woods and forrests cannot skill; 
That with persuasive magique could command lo 
A pitty in your soule, I would my tongue 
Had learn'd that powerfuU art! 

Lau. Why Thestylisy 

Thou know'st the brests I suck'd were neither 

wolves 
Nor Tygers, and I have a heart of waxe, 
Soft and soone melting; try this amorous heart; 
'tis not IS 

Of flint or marble. 

The. If it were, Laurinda, 

The teares of her, whose orator I come 
Have power to soften it. Beauteous Amaryllis, 
Shee that in this unfortunate age of love, 
This haplesse time of Cupids tyranny 20 

Plac'd her affection on a skornfuU sheapheard, 
One that disdaines her love. 

Lau. Disdaines her love! 

I tell thee Thestylis in my poore judgment, 
(And women if no envy blind their eyes. 
Best judge of womens beauties) Amaryllis 25 

May make a Bride worthy the proudest Sheapheard 
In all Sicilia: but wherein can I 
Pitty this injur'd Nymph.? 

The. Thus she desires you, 

As you desire to thrive in him you love; 
As you doe love him whom you most desire, 30 
Not to love Damon! Damon alas repaies 
Her love with skorne! Tis a request she saies 
She knowes you cannot grant, but if you doe not 
Shee will not live to aske again. 

(12) ,] ? 'S2. (is) heart, '40b, ff. (jj) !] ; '40b. ff. 



AMYNTAS 243 

Lau. Poore Nymph! 

My Amaryllis knowes my fidelity; 35 

How often have we sported on the Lawnes, 
And danc'd a roundelay to locastus pipe? 
If I can doe her service Thestylis, 
Be sure I will: Good wench, I dare not stay 
Least I displease my Father; who in this age 40 
Of haplesse lovers watches me as close 
As did the Dragon the Hesperian fruit. 
Farewell. Exit Laur. 

Thest. Farewell Laurinda! Thus poore foole 

I toyle for others; like the painfull Bee 
From every flower cull hony drops of love 45 

To bring to others hives: Cupid does this 
Cause I am Claius sister. Other Nymphs 
Have their varietie of loves, for every gowne, 
Nay every petticote; I have only one, 
The poore foole Mopsus! yet no matter wench, 50 
Fooles never were in more request then now. 
He make much of him, for that woman lyes 
In weary sheetes, whose Husband is too wise. 

(34) !] • '38, '40a. (3S) by fidelity, '52. 

(44) others like the painfull Bee, '40b, '52 others, like the paiaful Bee, '68. 

(46) other '68. 



SCEN. 3. 

Thestylis. Mopsus. locastus. 

Mop. locastus, I love Thestylis abominably. 
The mouth of my aff^ection waters at her. 

lo. Be wary Mopsus, learne of mee to skorne 
The mortalls; choose a better match: goe love 
Some Fairy Lady! Princely Oberon 5 



244 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Shall stand thy friend: and beauteous Mah his 
Queene 

Give thee a Maid of Honour. 
Mop. How locastus? 

Marry a puppet? Wed a mote ith' Sunne? 

Goe looke a wife in nutshells? wooe a gnat 

That's nothing but a voice? No no, locastus, lo 

I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis. 

A fig for Fairies! 
Thes. Tis my sweet-heart Mopsus, 

And his wise brother: O the twins of folly! 

These doe I entertaine only to season 

The poore Amyntas madnesse. 15 

Mop. Sacred red and white, 

How fares thy reverend beauty? 
The. Very ill 

Since you were absent, Mopsus! where have you 

Beene all this live-long houre? 
Mop. I have been 

Discoursing with the birds. 
The. Why, can birds speake? 

lo. In Fairyland they can: I have heard 'em chirpe 20 

Very good Greeke and Latin. 
Mop. And our Birds 

Talke better farre then they: a new-laid egge 

Of Sicilie shall out talke the bravest Parrat 

In Oberons Vtopia. 
The. But what languages 

Doe they speake, servant? 25 

Mop. Severall languages, 

As Cawation, Chirpation, Hootation, 

Whistleation, Crowation, Cackleation, 

Shreekation, Hissation. 

(16) thy] the '52. 



AMYNTAS 245 

The. And Fooleation. 

Mop. No, that's our language, we our selves speak that, 

That are the learned Augurs. 
The. What successe 30 

Does your Art promise? 
Mop. Very good. 

The. What Birds 

Met you then first.? 
Mop. A Wood-cock and a Goose. 

The. Well met. 
Mop. I told 'em so. 

The. And what might this portend? 

Mop. Why thus and first the Wood-cock 

Wood and Cock, 

Both very good signes. For first the wood doth 
signify 35 

The fire of our love shall never goe out. 

Because it has more fuell: wood doth signify 

More fuell. 
The. What the Cock? 

Mop. Better then t'other: 

That I shall crow ore those that are my rivalls. 

And roost my selfe with thee. 40 

The. But now the Goose? 

Mop. I, I the Goose, that likes me best of all, 

Th'ast heard our gray-beard sheapherds talk of 
Rome, 

And what the Geese did there: The Goose doth 
signify 

That I shall keep thy Capitoll. 
The. Good gander! 

(26) Hootation. '38. f4l) that] om. '68. 

(28) Fooleation? '40b, ff. 



246 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

lo. It cannot choose but strangely please his 

highnesse! 4S 

The. What are you studying of locastus, ha? 
lo. A rare devise, a Masque to entertaine 

His grace of Fairy with. 
The. A Masque? what is't? 

lo. An Anti-masque of fleaes, which I have taught 

To dance Currantoes on a spiders thread. 50 

Mop. An Anti-masque of fleaes? brother me thinkes 

A masque of Birds were better, that could dance 

The morrice in the aire, Wrens and Robin-red- 
brests. 

Linnets, and Titmise. 
lo. So! and why not rather 

Your Geese & Wood-cocks? Mortall hold thy 
tongue, S5 

Thou dost not know the mystery. 
The. Tis true 

He tells you Mopsus, leave your Augurie, 

Follow his counsell, and be wise. 
Mop. Be wise? 

I skorne the motion ! follow his counsell and be wise ? 

That's a fine trick i'faith! is this an age 60 

For to be wise in ? 
The. Then you mean I see, 

T' expound the Oracle. 
Mop. I doe mean to be 

Th' interpreter. 
lo. And then a jig of Pismires 

Is excellent. 
Mop. What, to interpret Oracles? 

A foole must be th' interpreter. 65 

(45) lo. It cannot '68. (57) Mopsus; '68. 



AMYNTAS 247 

The. Then no doubt 

But you will have the honour. 
Mop. Nay I hope 

I am as faire for't as another man. 

If I should now grow wise against my will, 

And catch this wisdome! 
The. Never feare it Mopsus. 

Mop. Twere dangerous vent' ring. Now I think on't 
too 70 

Pray Heaven this aire be wholsome! is there not 

An antidote against it? what doe you think 

Of garlick every morning? 
The. Fy upon't, 

'Twill spoile our kissing! and besides I tell you 

Garlick's a dangerous dish, eating of garlick 75 

May breed the sicknesse, for as I remember 

Tis the Phylosophers dyet. 
Mop. Certainly 

I am infected, now the fit's upon mee! 

Tis some thing like an ague, sure I caught it 

With talking with a Scholar next my heart. 80 

The. How sad a life live I, 

Betwixt their folly and Amyntas madnesse! 

For Mopsus He prescribe you such a diet 

As shall secure you. 
Mop. Excellent she Doctor! 

Your women are the best Physitians, 85 

And have the better practice. 
The. First my Mopsus^ 

Take heed of fasting, for your hungry meales 

Nurse wisdome. 

(66) have honour '40b, '52. 

(70) ventring. '38 vent'ring now '52 too. '68. 

(83) For, Mopsus, I '68. 



248 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Mop. True! O what a stomach have I 

To be her patient! 
The. Besides, take speciall care 

You weare not thred-bare clothes: 'twill breed at 
least 90 

Suspicion you are wise. 
lo. I marry will it. 

The. And walke not much alone; or if you walke 

With company, be sure you walke with fooles, 

None of the wise. 
Mop. No, no I warrant you, 

He walke with no body but my brother here, 95 

Or you, or mad Amyntas. 
The. By all meanes 

Take heed of Travell, your beyond-sea wit 

Is to be feard. 
Mop. If ere I travell hang mee. 

lo. Not to the Fairy land ? 

The. Thither he may. 

But above all things weare no beard, long 100 
beards 

Are signes the braines are full, because the excre- 
ments 

Come out so plentifully. 
lo. Rather empty. 

Because they have sent out so much, as if 

Their brains were sunk into their beards: King 
Oberon 

Has ne're a beard, yet for his wit I am sure 105 

He might have beene a Gyant. Who comes here? 
Enter Dorylas. 

(88) True? '68. (loi) full; '40a, ff. 

(94) No, on, '40a. (102) empty; '40a, ff. 

(100) beard,] beards, '38. (104) beard; *68. 



AMTNTAS 249 

Dor. All haile unto the fam'd interpreter 

Of fowles and Oracles ! 
Mop. Thankes good Dory las. 

Dor. How fares the winged cattell ? are the woodcocks, 

The jayes, the dawes, the cuckoes, and the owles no 

In health? 
Mop. I thank the gracious starres they are! 

Dor. Like health unto the president of the jigs; 

I hope King Oberon and his royall Mab 

Are well. 
lo. They are, I never saw their Graces 

Eate such a meale before. 
Dor. E'ne much good doe't em ! 115 

lo. They're rid a hunting. 

Do. Hare or Deere my Lord.? 

lo. Neither, a brace of snailes of the first head. 

The. But Dorylas, there's a mighty quarrell here, 

And you are chosen umpire. 
Dor, About what? 

The. The exposition of the Oracle: 120 

Which of these two you think the verier foole. 
Dor. It is a difficult cause, first let me pose 'em! 

You Mopsus, cause you are a learned Augur, 

How many are the seven Liberall Sciences? 
Mop. Why much about a dozen. 
Dor. You locastus, 125 

When Oberon shav'd himselfe, who was his Barber? 
lo. I knew him well, a little dapper youth. 

They call him Periwinckle. 
Dor. Thestylis, 

A weighty cause and askes a longer time. 
The. Wee'll in the while to comfort sad Amyntas. 130 

Exeunt The. Mop. lo. 

(113) joyall '38. (ns) Z)i>. '38. 



250 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

ScEN. 4. 
Dorylas. Laurinda. 

Lau. I wonder much that Dorylas stales so long, 

Faine would I heare whether they'l come or no 
Do. Ha? would you so? 
Lau. I see in your own messages 

You can goe fast enough. 
Dor. Indeed forsooth, 

I loiter'd by the way. 
Lau. What, will they come? 5 

Dor. Which of them ? 
Lau. Damon? 

Dor. No. 

Lau. Alexis -wWi^. 

Dor. Nor he. 

Lau. How, neither? am I then neglected? 

Dor. Damon will come. 

Lau. And not Alexis too? 

Dor. Only Alexis comes. 
Lau. Let him not come. 

I wonder who sent for him; unlesse both 10 

He speak with none. 
Dor, Why both will visit you. 

Lau. Both? one had been too many. Was e're Nymph 

So vex'd as I ? you sawcy rascall you. 

How doe you strive to crosse me? 
Dor. And sweet Mistresse, 

Still I will crosse you, 'tis the only way 15 

Truely to please you. 

(3) own] om. '40b, fF. (lo); ] , '38, '40a. 

(6) Damon. '62. (11) Why? '52. 



AMTNTAS 25 1 

SCENA 5. 

Enter Me dor us. 

Medo. So, you'l all please her, 

I wonder who'l please mee? you all for her 
Can run on errants, carry love-sick letters. 
And amorous eglogues from her howling suiters. 
To her, and back againe, be Cupids Heraulds, 5 
And point out meetings for her. 

Dor. Truly Sir, 

Not I, pray aske my Mistresse: Doe I call 

Your sweet-hearts speak, nay speak it if you 

can. 
Doe I? 

Lau. Why no. 

Do. Nay say your worst, I care not. 

Did I goe ever? 10 

Lau. Never. 

Dor. La - you now! 

We were devising nothing but a snare 
To catch the Pole-cat, 

Med. Sirrah get you in; 

Take heed I doe not find your haunts. 

Dor. What haunts? 

Med. You'l in! 

Dor. I know no haunts I have but to the Dairy, 15 
To skimme the milke-bowles like a lickorish Fairy. 

Exit Dor. 

(7) Doe I call] om. 40b. ff. 

(8) Your sweet-hearts speak — speak, may speak it if you can. '40a. 
Your sweet hearts, speak nay speak if you can; '40b. 

Your sweet-hearts, speak, speak, nay speak if you can; '52, ff. 

(9) Doe I?] Doll? '68. fi2) Mtd.'] om. '38. 

(10) La you '40b, ff. (14) !] ? '40a, ff. 



252 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Me. He that's a womans keeper, should have eyes 
A hundred more then Argus, and his eares 
Double the number: Now the newes, what letters? 
What posy, ring or bracelet wooes to day? 20 

What Grove to night is conscious of your whispers? 
Come tell me, for I fear your trusty squire, 
Your little closet blabbes into your eare 
Some secret, let me know it. 

Lau. Then you feare, 

Least I should be in love. 

Me. Indeed I doe, 25 

Cupids a dangerous boy, and often wounds 
The wanton roving eye. 

Lau. Were I in love. 

Not that I am (for yet by Dianas bow 
I have not made my choice,) and yet suppose it, 
Suppose I say I were in love. What then? 30 

Me. So I would have thee, but not yet my Girle, 
Till loves prove happier, till the wretched Claius 
Have satisfied the Gods. 

Lau. Why Claius, Father? 

Me. Hast thou not heard it? 

Lau. Never. 

Me. Tis impossible. 

Lau. How should I sir? you know that my discourse 35 
Is all with walls and pictures, I nere meet 
The Virgins on the downes. 

Me. Why I will tell thee, 

Thou knowest Pilumnus? 

Lau. The high Priest of Ceres? 

(22) fear] know '38. (33) Have] Hath '52, ff. 

(28) Z)ia?iaV'S2, ff. (37).]. — '40b. 

(29) it] om. '40b, ff. (38) Pilumbus? '38. 
(32) loves] lovers '52. 



AMTNTAS 253 

Me. Yes: This Pilumnus had a sonne Philabus, 
Who was, while yet he was, the only joy 40 

The stafFe and comfort of his fathers age. 
And might have still beene so, had not fond love 
Vndone him. 

Lau. How did love undoe Philabus? 

Me. Why thus; one Lalage, a beauteous Nymph 
As ever eye admired, Alphestus daughter, 45 

Was by her father promis'd him in marriage. 

Lau. Why hitherto his love had good successe. 

Me. But only promis'd: for the sheapherd Claius, 
(A name accursed in Sicilian fields!) 
Being rich, obtained the beauteous Lalage 50 

From sweet Philcshus: he sad heart being rob'd, 
Of all his comfort, having lost the beauty 
Which gave him life and motion; seeing Claius 
Injoy those lips, whose cherries were the food 
That nurs'd his soule, spent all his time in sorrow, 55 
In melancholy sighes and discontents; 
Look'd like a wither'd tree oregrowne with mosse, 
His eyes were ever dropping Iceacles. 
Disdaine and sorrow made Pilumnus rage, 
And in this rage, he makes his moane to Ceres, 60 
{Ceres most sacred of Sicilian powers;) 
And in those moanes he prosecutes revenge. 
And that revenge to fall on Lalage. 

Lau. Would Ceres heare his praiers? 

Me. Silly maid! 

His passions were not causelesse; and with what 
justice 6s 

Could she deny Pilumnus? how oft hath he 
sprinkled, 

(49) name] man '52, ff. (64) !] , '38. (66) she] he *68 



254 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

The finest flowre of wheat, and sweetest myrrhe 

Vpon her Altars! Lalage ru'd the time 

She flowted brave Philesbus. Now she was great 

With two sweet twins, the faire chast Amaryllis, 70 

And mad Amyntas; (an unluckly paire!) 

These shee brought forth, but never liv'd to see 

them: 
Lucina caus'd her sorrowes stop her breath, 
Leaving this matchlesse paire of beauteous infants. 
In whom till now she lives. 

Lau. After her death 75 

How far'd the sorrowfull Philabus? 

Me. Worse 

Then ever: Shee being dead whose life was his, 
Whose lookes did hold his eyes from shutting up, 
He pin'd away in sorrowes, griefe it was 
To see she was not his, but greater farre 80 

That she was not at all. Her Exequies being past, 
He casts him down upon that turfe of earth, 
Vnder whose roofe his Lalage was hous'd, 
And parlied with her ashes, 'till his own lampe 
Was quite extinguish'd with a fatall dampe. 85 

Here ended th' noble sheapheard. 

Lau. Vnhappy lover! 

Tis pitty but the Virgins once a yeare. 
Should wash his tombe with maiden teares! but 

now 
Both Lalage being dead, and her Philebus, 90 

How comes it other loves should prove unfortunate? 

Med. Pilumnus having lost his hopefull Sonne, 
Though he had two more children, fair Vrania 

(67) and the sweetest '68 (73) .] ■ '38 ; '40b,' $2. 

(68) !] ? •40b, ff. 



AMYNTAS 255 

And noble Damon; yet the death of Lalage 
Suffic'd not his revenge, but he anew implores 

His goddesse wrath 'gainst Claius: Doth Ceres 

prize me thus? 95 

Shall Claius tread upon the flowry Plaine, 
And walke upon the Ashes of my boy? 
Will I be Archyfiamen where the Gods 
Are so remisse? let wolves approach their shrines; 
Their bowlings are as powerfuU as the Praiers 100 

Of sad Pilumnus! Such disgusts at last 

Awaken'd Ceres: with hollow murmuring noise 

Her Ompha like a thunder 'gins to roare. 

(The Ompha if it menace speakes at large 

In copious language, but perplexed termes.) 105 

And laid this curse on all Trinacria. 

Sicilian szvaines, ill luck shall long betide 
To every bridegroome, and to every bride: 
No sacrifice, no vow shall still mine Ire, 
Till Claius blood both quench and kindle fire, no 
The wise shall misconceive me, and the wit 
Scornd, and neglected shall my meaning hit. 
Lau. Angry and Intricate! Alas for love! 

What then became of Claius? 
Me. Why the Ompha 

Having denounced against him, and he knowing 115 
The hate of old Pilumnus fled away, 
I think bee's sayl'd to the Antipodes. 
No tydings can be brought what ground receives 

him, 
Vnlesse Corymbus make a happy voyage; 119 

Corymbus that will search both East and Occident 
And when he finds him, spill his captive blood. 

(97) boy] body '40b, ff. (102) :] om. '52. 

(99) ;] ? '40b, '52. (114) Ompha.'jS. 



256 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Which Ceres grant he may! Tender Laurinda 
Now dost thou see the reason of my care, 
And why my watchfull eyes so close observe 
Thy steps and actions. 

Lau. And I promise, father, 125 

To temper my affections, 'till the Goddesse 
Doe mitigate her anger. 

Med. Doe so then: 

For now you see with what unfortunate choice 
Pilumnus daughter, delicate Vrania loves 
The mad Amyntas: for the angry Goddesse, 130 
Though she repaid the wrong done to Philabus, 
Yet not approving the reuengefull mind 
Of great Pilumnus, scourg'd him with his own asking, 
By threatning an unhappy marriage 
To his Vrania, unlesse he that wooes her 135 

Pay an impossible Dowry; for as others 
Give Portions with their daughters, Ceres Priests 
Vse to receive for theirs. The words are these. 
That which thou hast not, mayst not, canst not have 
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave. 140 

Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine 
To give Vrania this, and she is thine: 
Which while the poore Amyntas would Interpret, 
He lost his wits. Take heed of love, Laurinda, 
You see th' unhappinesse of it in others; 145 

Let not experience in thy selfe instruct thee. 
Be wise my Girle: so some and follow me. Exit. 

Lau. rie make a Garland for my kid and follow you. 
What a sad tale was here! how full of sorrow! 
Happy the heart that never felt the shaft 150 

Of angry Cupid! 

(139) maist not, nor canst not '52. (146) .] om. '40a, '40b, '52 ; '68. 

(I49) here? '38 sorrow? '38, '40a. 



AMTNTAS 257 

SCEN. 6. 

Damon Alexis 

Damon and Alexis? 

Their presence quickly puts these cogitations 
Out of my mind : Poore soules, I fain would pity 

them, 
And yet I cannot, for to pity one 
Were not to pity t'other, and to pity 5 

Both, were to pity neither. Mine old Temper 
Is all the shift I have; some dew of comfort 
To either of them. How now bold intruders. 
How dare you venter on my privacy.'' 
If you must needs have this walk, be it so! 10 

I'le seeke another: What.? you'l let me goe? 

Da. Cruell Laurinda (if a word so foule 

Can have so faire a dwelling.) seale not up 

Thy eares, but let a pity enter there 

And find a passage to thy heart. 15 

Alex. Laurinda. 

(The name which but to speak I would not wish 
For life or breath.) Let not thy powerfuU beauty 
Torment us longer: Tell us which of us 
You value most. 

Da. And t'other, for old freindship 

Strangling his bitter Corrasive in his heart, 20 

Hath promised to desist from further suit. 

Alex. Or if he cannot so, assure he cannot, 
Yet he will rather chuse to dye then live 
Once to oppose your liking. 

(2) presents '52. (16) ( ] om. '52. 

(9) venture '40b, ff. (17) ; J om. '40b, '52. 



258 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Lau. Since you are 24 

Growne so importunate, and will not be answer'd 
With modest silence; Know I wish you well. 

Alex. How, me Laurinda? 

Lau. Why I wish, Alexis, 

I were thy wife. 

Da. Then most unhappy me! 

Alex. That word doth relish immortalitie. 29 

Lau. And I doe wish thou wer't my husband, Damon. 

Alex. Still more perplexed: what doe you think I am? 

Lau. My head, Alexis. 

Da. And what I ? 

Lau. My heart. 

Da. Which hand am I ? 

Laur. Damon, my right. 

Alex. Which I? 

Lau. My left, Alexis. 

Alex. Thus you scorne my love. 

Lau. Not I, Alexis: th'art my only hope. 35 

Da. Then I am all despaire, no hope for me. 

Lau. Why so my Damon? thou art my desire. 
Alexis is my flame; Damon my fire. 
Alexis doth deserve my nuptiall Bed, 
And Damon s worthy of my Maidenhead! 40 

Exit Lau. 

Alex. Damon, desist thy suit or loose thy life; 

Thou heard'st Laurinda wish she were my wife. 

Da. Thy wife, Alexis? But how can it be 

Without a Husband? and I must be he. 44 

Alex. I am her head: That word doth seeme t'impart 
She meanes my marriage. 

(45) t'import '62, '68. 

(46) my] me '68 How? '62, '68. 



AMYNTAS 259 

Da. How without her heart? 

For that am I: besides you heard her say 

I was the right hand, you the left, away, 

Desist Alexis, mine's the upper hand. 
Alex. But, Damon, I next to her heart doe stand: 50 

I am her hope, in that you plainly see 

The end of her intents doth aime at me. 
Da. But I am her desire, in that 'tis showne 

Her only wish is to make me her owne. 
Alex. I am her flame. 

Da. 'Tis true, but I her fire. 55 

Alex. The flames the hotter, therefore her desire 

Most aimes at mee. 
Da. Yet when the flame is spent, 

The fire continues; Therefore me she meant. 
Alex. She promis'd now I should injoy her Bed. 
Da. Alexis doe, so I her Maidenhead. 60 

Alex. I see she still conceales it, and with speeches 

Perplext and doubtfull masks her secret thoughts. 
Da. Let's have another meeting, since her words 

Delude us thus, wee'le haue a pregnant signe 

To shew her mind. 
Alex. I goe that way a hunting, 65 

And will call for her. 
Da. rie the while retire 

Into the Temple, if I linger here 

I am afraid of meeting Amaryllis, 

Who with unwelcome love solicites me. 
Alex. And would she might preuaile! 
Da. Till then farewell. 70 

Alex. All happinesse to Damon be 

Except Laurinda. 

(48) away; '68. 



26o THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Da. All but her to thee. 

Alex. Thus we in love and courtesie contend. 

Da. The name of Rivall should not loose the Freind. 

Exeunt. 
Finis actus I. 



ACTVS 2. SCEN I. 

Pilumnus Frania. 

Vra. Tj^Ather perswade me not! The power of heaven 
-i- Can never force me from Amyntas love; 
*Tis rooted here so deepe within my heart 
That he which pulls it out, pulls out at once, 
That and my soule together. 

Pil. Fond Frania, 5 

Can ignorant love make thee affect the seede, 
The hatefull seede of cursed Lalage? 
Did I for this beget thee? 

Fra. Father, you know 

Divinitie is powerfuU, Cupids will 
Must not be question'd: When love meanes to 
sport 10 

(I'have heard your selfe relate it) he can make 
The Wolfe and Lambe kisse freindly; force the 

Lyon 
T'forget his Majestie, and in amorous dalliance 
Sport with the frisking Kid. When Fenus rides, 
Shee'le linke the ravenous Kite, and milder Swan 15 
To the same chariot, and will yoak together 
The necks of Doves and Eagles; when as shee 
Commands, all things loose their Antipathie, 

(11) I have '68. 



AMYNTAS 261 

Even contrarieties: can I alone 

Resist her will? I cannot, my Amynias 20 

Shall witnesse that! 

Pil. I blame thee not so much 

For loving him, while yet he was Amyntas. 
But being mad and having lost himselfe, 
Why shouldst not thou loose thy affection too? 

Vra. I love him now the rather; he hath lost 25 
Himselfe for me, and should he loose me too ? 
It were a sinne he should! 

Pil. What canst thou love 

In his distemper'd wildnesse? 

Vra. Only that. 

His wildnesse; 'tis the comfort I have left 
To make my teares keepe time to his distractions;3o 
To think as wildly as he talks; to marry 
Our griefs together, since our selves we cannot. 
The Oracle doth aske so strange a Dowry, 
That now his company is the only blisse 
My love can aime at: but I stay too long 35 

I'le in to comfort him. 

Pil. Doe not Vrania. 

Vra. Doe not? 

I must and will; Nature commands me no, 

But Love more powerfull sayes it shall be so. Exit. 

Pil. The Gods did well to make their Destinies 40 
Of woemen, that their wills might stand for law 
Fixt and unchang'd; who's this? Corymbiis? he. 

(42) this '40b, '52. he3 om. '40b, flf. 



262 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

SCEN. 2. 

Pilumnus. Corymbus. 

Pil. Corymbus welcome ! 

Cor. Sacred Pilumnus hayle! 

And fruitfull Sicilie I kisse thy dust — 
Pil. What newes Corymbus? Is our Countrie's 
Mischeif 

Fetter'd in chaines? 
Cor. Thrice the sunne hath past 

Through the twelve Inns of heaven, since my 
diligence S 

Has been imploy'd in quest of him, whose death 

Must give poore lovers life, the hatefull Claius; 

Yet could I ne're heare of him: — The meane 
while 

How fare the poore Sicilians? Does awfull Ceres 

Still bend her angry brow? Find the sad Lovers 10 

No rest, no quiet yet? 
Pil, Corymbus none! 

The Goddess has not yet deign'd to accept 

One sacrifice, no favourable Echo 

Resounded from her Ompha; All her answers 

Are full, and doubtfuU. iS 

Cor. The true signe, Pilumnus^ 

Her wrath is not appeas'd. 
Pil, Appeas'd say you? 

Rather againe incens'd so farre, Corymbus, 

As that my selfe am plagu'd; My poore Vrania 

Dotes on Amyntas. 

(8) heare] here '68. 

(14) Resounded] Sounded '68. 



AMYNTAS 265 

Cor. First shall our hives swarme in the venemous 
yew, 20 

And Goats shall browze upon our myrtle wands! 
— One of your blood, Ptlumnus, (is it possible) 
Love Lalage and Claius brood? 

Pil. The chaine of fate 

Will have it so! And he lov'd her as much. 

Cor. That makes it something better. 25 

Pil. Ah, thou knowest not 

What sting this waspish fortune pricks me with! 
I seeing their loves so constant, so inflexible. 
Chid with dame Ceres 'cause she us'd me thus. 
My words were inconsiderate, and the heavens 
Punish'd my rough expostulations: 30 

Being Archiflamen of Trinacria 
I did demand a Dowry of that sheapheard 
That askes my daughter: — Set the price said I, 
Thou Goddess, that dost cause such hatefull loves; 
If that Amyntas be thy darling swaine, 35 

Aske thou, and set a Dowry for Vrania: 
With that the Altar groan'd, my haire grew stiff^e, 
Amyntas looked agast; Vrania quiver'd, 
And the Ompha answer'd 

Cor. With an Echo; 

Pil. No. 

Co. Then I presage some ill! 40 

Pi. This darke demand, 

That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have^ 
Amyntas, is the dowry that I crave: 
Rest hopeless e in thy love, or else divine 
To give Vrania this and she is thine. 

(22) your] our '68. (30) rough] rash '52 

(28) 'cause] if '38, '40a. (39) ;]? '40b, ff. 



264 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

And so he did, but the perplexed sense 45 

Troubled his braines so farre, he lost his wits; 

Yet still he loves, and shee, my griefe Corymbus 

Will not permit me to relate the rest! 
rie in into the Temple, and expresse 
What's yet behinde in teares. Exit. 50 

Corym. Sad sad Pilumnus! 

And most distress'd Sicilians! Other nations 
Are happy in their loves, you only are unfortu- 
nate! 
In all my travelles ne'r a spring but had 
Her paire of lovers, singing to that musique 
The gentle bubling of her waters made 55 

Never a walke unstor'd with amorous couples, 
Twind with so close imbraces, as if both 
Meant to growe one together! every shade 
Sheltred some happy loves, that counting dazies, 
Scor'd up the summes on one anothers lips, 60 

That met so oft and close, as if they had 
Chang'd soules at every kisse. The married sort 
As sweet and kind as they: at every evening 
The loving husband and full brested wife 
Walk'd on the Downs so friendly, as if that 65 

Had been their wedding day. The boies of five, 
And girles of foure, e're that their lisping tongues 
Had learn'd to prattle plaine, would prate of love, 
Court one another, and in wanton dalliance 
Returne such innocent kisses, you'd have thought 70 
You had seene Turtles billing. 

(48) the] om. '38. 
(71) Tur les '38. 



AMYNTAS 265 

SCEN. 3. 

Mopsus. Corymbus. 

Mop. What aire is that? The voice of — Turtles billing! 

Of Turtles! a good Omen! shee is chast 

And hilling, billing, o delicious billing! 

That word presages kissing. 

Co. Who is this? 

Mopsus, my learned Augur? 
Mop. Stand aside, 5 

The other side; I will not talke to thee 

Vnlesse I have the winde. 
Co. Why, whats the matter Mopsus? 
Mop. Th'art infected; 

Co. What with the Plague? 
Mop. Worse then the Plague, the Wisdom ! 

You have been in travell, & that's dangerous 10 

For getting Wisdome. 
Co. Then nere feare it, Mopsus, 

For I came home a foole just as I went. 
Mop. By Ceres? 
Co. Yes. 

Mop. By Ceres welcome then! 

Co. But Mopsus, why doe you walke here alone? 

That's dangerous too! 15 

Mop. I : but I come to meet 

The Cittizens of the aire; you have heard my skill 

In augury? 
Co. Why I have heard your name 

Not mention'd any where in all my travailes. 
Mop. How? not mention'd? 

(10) intravell, '38. (14) ?] ! '38, '40a. (15) Thats dangerous '68. 



266 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Co. Yo'are to hasty Mopsus, 

Not without admiration. 20 

Mop. I know that. 

Co. How should you know it ? 

Mop. Why some birds or other, 

Fly from all countries hither, and they tell me. 
Co. But how dare you converse with birds that 

travell ? 
Mop. With an antidote I may: but my Corymbus 

What strange birds have you seene beyond seas? 25 
Cor. Brave ones: 

Ladies with fans and feathers! dainty Fowles! 
There were brave taking Augury. 
Mop. But, CorymbuSy 

Are those fine Lady-birds such pretty things? 
Co. As tame as sparrowes, and as sweet as Night- 

ingals. 
Mop. Is the Cocklady-bird, or the Henlady-bird 30 

The better? 
Co. All are hens. 

Mop. O admirable! 

Would you had brought me one ! but whats the Fan ? 

Co. A fan's a wing of one side. 

Mop. Delicate! 

And what's their Feather? 
Co. Like the copple-crowne 

The Lap-wing has: 35 

Mop. The Lap-wing? then they'l — ly. 

Co. With men they will; 

Mop. Delicious Lady-birds! 

But have they such brave traines, such curious 

tailes 
As our birds have? 



AMYNTAS 267 

Co. Like Peacocks, there's the head 

Of all their pride. 

Mop. Nay 'tis the taile Corymbus, 

Surely these things you call the Lady-birds 40 

Are the true birds of Paradice! 

Enter Corymbus's carriages. 

Co. Very right 

Mopsus, I cannot stay, I must attend 

My carriage to the Temple: gentle Mopsus 

Farewelll Exit. 

Mop. Farewell Corymbusl By my troth 

I never long'd for any thing in my life 45 

So much as Lady-birds; dainty Lady-birds! 
I would fetch one of them; but I dare not travell 
For fear I catch the wisdome. O sweet Lady-birds ! 
With copple crownes, and wings but on one side! 
And tailes like Peacocks ! curious Lady-birds ! 50 

(40) the] om. '52. 



SCEN. 4. 

Amyntas. Vrania. Amaryllis, manet Mopsus. 

Amyn. That which I have not, may not, cannot 
have! 

It is the moone! Vrania, thou shalt weare 

The horned Goddesse at thy beauteous eare. 

Come hither Pegasus, I will mount thy back, 

And spurre thee to her orbe. 
Mop. Oh good Amyntas! 5 

Amyn. Why, art thou foundred Pegasus? Am- 
aryllis, 

Fetch him a peck of provender. 



268 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Vra. Sweet Amyntas! 

Amy. What saies my Cytherea? wouldst thou eat 

A golden Apple ? if thou wilt, by Venus 

rie rob th' Hesperian Orchard. 
Mop. Ha ha he! lo 

Amyn. Ha? dost thou laugh old Charon? sirrah sculler, 

Prepare thy boat! 
Ama. For what? deere brother speake! 

Amyn. Art thou my sister Helen? were we hatchd 

In the same eggshell? Is your cock-boat ready? 

Mop. It is, an't please your Worship. 15 

Amyn. Very well! 

Row me to hell! no faster? I will have thee 

Chain'd unto Pluto's gallies! 
Fra. Why to hell, 

My deere Amyntas? 
Amy. Why? to borrow money! 

Ama. Borrow there? 
Amy. I there ! They say there be more Vsurers there 20 

Then all the world besides: see how the windes 

Rise! Puffe — pufFe Boreas. what a cloud comes 

yonder? 

Take heed of that wave Charon! ha? give mee 

The oares! — so so: the boat is overthrown, 24 

Now Charons drown'd: but I will swim to shore 

Vra. O Ceres, now behold him! can thy eyes 

Looke on so sad an object, and not melt 

Them and thy heart to pitty? 
Ama. How this greefe 

Racks my tormented soule! but the neglect 

Of Damon more afflicts mee: the whole Senate 30 

Of heaven decrees my ruine. 

(13) sisteri HelUn '52. (22) yonder '52 yonder; '68. (29) !] ? '38- 



AMYNTAS 269 

Vra. And mine too. 

Come Amaryllis let's weepe both together, 

Contending in our sorrowes! 
Ama. Would to Ceres 

That I were dead! 
Vra. And I had nere been borne! 

Ama. Then had not I been wretched! 3S 

Vra. Then Amyntas 

Might have been happy. 
Mop. Nay if you begin 

Once to talke wisely, 'Tis above high time. 

That I were gone: farewell Bellerophon! 

I must goe seek my Thestylis; shee's not here. Exit. 
Amy. My armes are weary; now I sinke I sinke! 40 

Farewell Vrania. 

Ama. Alas what strange distractions, 

Tosse his distemperd braine! 
Vra. Yet still his love to me 

Lives constant. 
Amy. Styx I thank thee! That curld wave 

Hath tos'd mee on the shore. come Sysiphus. 

rie rowle thy stone a while: mee thinkes this 
labour 45 

Doth looke like Love! does it not so, Tysiphone? 
Ama. Mine- is that restlesse toile. 
Amy. I'st so, Erynnis? 

You are an idle huswife, goe and spin 

At poore Ixions wheele! 
Fra. Amyntas. 

Amyn. Ha? 

Am I known here? 50 

(32) both] om. '68. (46) so] om. '40b, ff. 

(41) distraction '38. (47) I'st] Is't '68. 



270 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Vra. Amyntas, deere Amyntas. — 

Amyn. Who calls Amyntas? beauteous Proserpine? 

Tis shee, Fair Empresse of th' Elysian shades, 

Ceres bright daughter intercede for mee, 

To thy incensed mother: prithee bid her 

Leave talking riddles, with thou? 
Vra. How shall I 55 

Apply myselfe to his wild passions? 
Ama. Seeme to be 

What he conceives you. 
Amy. Queen of darknesse, 

Thou supreme Lady of eternall night, 

Grant my petitions! wilt thou beg of Ceres 

That I may have Vrania? 
Vra. Tis my praier, 60 

And shall be ever, I will promise thee 

Shee shall have none but him. 
Amyn. Thankes Proserpine! 

Vra. Come sweet Amyntas, rest thy troubled head 

Here in my lap: Now here I hold at once 

My sorrow and my comfort: Nay ly still. 65 

Amyn. I will: h\it Proserpine 

Vra. Nay, good Amyntas. 

Amy. Should Pluto chance to spy me, would not bee 

Be jealous of me? 
Vran. No. 

Amy. Tysiphone, 

Tell not Vrania of it, least she feare 

I am in love with Proserpine: doe not Fury! 70 
Ama. I will not. 

Vra. Pray ly still! 

(56) ?] ! '38. (s8) Thousupreme '38. 

(61) will] om. '68. 

(70) Proserpina: '40 b, 62, '68. 



AMYNTAS 271 

Amy. You Proserpine^ 

There is in Sicilie the fairest Virgin 
That ever blest the land, that ever breath'd, 
Sweeter then Zephyrusl didst thou never heare 
Of one Vrania ? 

Vr. Yes. 

Amy. This poore Vrania 75 

Loves an unfortunate sheapheard, one that's mad, 

Tysiphone, 
Canst thou believe it? Elegant Vrania 
(I cannot speak it without teares) still loves 
Amyntas, the distracted mad Amyntas. 

I'st not a constant Nymph? But I will goe 80 

And carry all Elysium on my back, 
And that shall be her joynture. 

Vra. Good Amyntas, 

Rest here a while! 

Amy. Why weepe you Proserpine? 

Vr. Because Vrania weepes to see Amyntas 
So restlesse and unquiet. 

Does shee so? 85 
Then I will ly as calme as doth the Sea, 
When all the winds are lock'd in ^olus jayle: 
I will not move a haire, not let a nerve 

Or Pulse to beat, least I disturbe her! Hush, 

Shee sleepes! 

Vra. And so doe you. 90 

Amy. You talk too loud, 

You'l waken my Vrania: 

Vra. If Amyntas, 

Her deere Amyntas would but take his rest, 
Vrania could not want it. 

(79) distracted man, mad Amyntai. '62, '68. (85) gheeso? '38. 



272 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Amy. Not so loud ! 

Ama. What a sad paire are wee? 

Vra. How miserable? 

He that I love is not! 

Ama. And he that I 95 

Doe love, loves not; or, if he love, not mee. 
Vra. I have undone Amyntas\ 

Ama. And my Damon 

Has undone me. 
Vr. My kindnesse ruin'd him. 

Ama. But his unkindnesse, me; unhappy me! 99 
Vra. More wretched I, for Damon has his reason, 

And he may love. 
Ama. But does not: thy Amyntas 

Returnes thee mutuall love. 
Vra. True, Amaryllis, 

But he has lost his reason; mine has love. 

No reason. 
Ama. Mine has reason, but no love. 

O mee! 
Vra. My Amaryllis, how thy griefes 105 

Meete full with mine to make the truest story 

Of perfect sorrow that ere eye bedew'd 

With teares of Pitty! 
Ama. Come Vrania: 

Let's sit together like two marble monuments 

Of ever weeping misery. 110 

Enter Damon. 



(94) miserable! '40a, '40b, '52 . '68. 

(95) ! — ] ! '40b, '52 . '68. 
{101-2) But does not thy Amyntas 

Returne thee mutuall love? '40b, ff. 
Enter Damon.'] om. '40b, '52. 
(105) griefe '52. 



AMTNTAS 273 

Da. Minds in love, 

Doe count their daies by minutes, measure howres 
By every sand that drops through the slow glasse; 
And for each vie a teare. 

Ama. If so, my Damoriy 

How many times hath thy unkindnesse ruin'd 
Sad Amaryllis} every frowne is mortall. 115 

Dam. Ill luck, to seeke my love and finde my 
hate! 

Ama. Be not so cruell to mee! Gentle Z)<3won, 

Accept this witnesse of my love, it is 

The story of poore Echo, that for love 

Of her Narcissus pin'd into a voice. 120 

Da. Doe thou so too! 

Ama. Damon, suppose I should, 

And then the Gods for thy contempt of mee 
Should plague thee like Narcissus. 

Da. Amaryllis, 

They cannot doe it: I have fixt my love 
So firme on my Laurinda, that for her 125 

I e're shall hate my selfe. 

Ama. — , Prithee Love accept it, 

'Twas wrought by mine own hand. 

Da. For that I hate it! 

Vra. Fy Brother, can you be of the same stock. 

Issue, and bloud with me, and yet so cruell.? 

Da. Nor can I, sister, dote like you on any 130 

That is the cursed brat of Lalage. 

Amy. Saist thou so Centaure} 

Vra. Good Amyntas hold. 

This is the Sacred Vally: here 'tis death, 
For to shed human blood. 

(127) .] om. '38. 



274 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Da. Still idly you complaine 

To crosse mee, Amaryllis, but in vaine! Exit. 135 

Ama. O, I am sick to death! 

Amy. What a brave show 

The monsters braines would make! 
(137) 1] ? "38. 



SCEN. 5. 

Thestylis. Mopsus. Amyntas. 
Amaryllis. Vrania. 

Ama. My griefe o're weighs me! 

The. How fares my Amaryllis} 

Ama. Like a Taper 

AUmost burnt out: sometimes all a darknesse. 
And now and then a flash or two of comfort, 
But soone blown out againe. Ah Thestylis, 5 

I cannot long subsist. For thee vaine labour, 
Away! I hate thee cause my Damon does, 
And for that reason too I hate my selfe, 
And every thing but him! 

Vra. Come my sad Partner, 

Poore rivall of my sorrowes: Goe with mee 10 

Into the Temple; I'le intreat my Brother 
To use thee kindly: if in mee it lye, 
rie helpe thee. 

Ama. Doe Vrania, or I dye. 

Exeunt Vrania, Amaryl. 
Amyntas. Thestylis. Mopsus. 

The. What a strange thing is Love! 

(6) vain's labour '40a subsist; for the vaine '40b, ff 

(7) thee] the '40b, '52. 



AMTNTAS 275 

Amy. It Is a madnesse: 

See how it stares. Have at thee thou blind 

Archer! 15 

O I have mist him! now I'le stand thee 

Cupid\ 

Looke how the rascall winkes a one eye, Thestylisl 

Nay draw your arrow home boy! just i'th heart! 

— O I am slaine! 
Thest. Amyntas. 

Amy. Dost not see? 

My blood runs round about mee, I lye soaking 20 

In a red Sea, take heed! see Thestylis, 

What a fine Crimson 'tis? 
Mop. Where? 

Amy. Here you puppet! 

Dost thou not see it? 
Mop. Yes I see it playne, 

But I spy nothing. 
Amy. Then thou art a mole. 

Mop. Now I looke better on't, I see it plaine; 25 

Does it not hurt you? 
Amy. Strangely! Have at thee 

How think you now? 
The. Be quiet good Amyntas. 

Mop. You'l fright away the birds else, and clean spoile 

My augury. 
Amyn. Goe about it, I am quiet! 

Mop. Now for some happy Omen, a Cuckoe Cries. 
Amy. Ha, ha, he! 30 

Mop. Why laughs the madman? 
Amy. Who can choose but laugh? 

The bird cried Homes! 

(16) thee] the '40b, '52. (18) Nay] May. '52 

(17) a] with '68. (20) round] down '52. 



276 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

The. What happinesse portends it, 

Sweet Mopsus? 
Mop. Constancy in Love, my Thestylis, 

This bird is alwaies in a note. 
The. Most excellent. 

Mop. Bird of the spring I thank thee! Mopsus 
thanks thee. 35 

Amy. This is a man of skill, an Oedipus, 

Apollo, Reverend Phoebus, Don of Delphos. 
Mop. What a brave man am I? 
Amy. Thou canst resolve 

By thy great Art all questions: What is that, 

That which I have not, may not, cannot have ? 40 
Mop. That which you have not, may not, cannot 
have.? 

It is my skill, you cannot have my skill. 
Amy. Where lies that skill .? 

Mop. Lies.? here within this noddle. 

Amy. Fetch me my wood-knife I will cut it off. 

And send it to Vrania for a dowry. 45 

Mop. No, no I am deceiv'd, it is not that. 
Amy. You dolt, you asse, you cockoe : 
Mop. Good Amyntas. 

(37) Reverent '38, '4.0a. (38) ?] ! '68. 

(43) 'Lies here within '40b, '52, '62 'Lies within '68. 

SCEN. 6. 

Dorylas. Mopsus. locastus. Thestylis. Amyntas. 

lo. 1st not a brave sight Dorylast can the mortalls 

Caper so nimbly.? 
Dor. Verily they cannot! 

(2) ?] ! '38. 



AMYNTAS 277 

lo. Does not King Oberon beare a stately presence? 

Mab is a beauteous Empresse. 
Do. Yet you kiss'd her 

With admirable courtship. 5 

lo. I doe think 

There will be of locastus brood in Fairy. 
Mop. You Cuckold-maker, I will tell King Oberon 

You lye with Mab his wife! 
lo. Doe not good brother, 

And I'le wooe Thestylis for thee. 

Doe so then. 
lo. Canst thou love MopjMj, mortall .f* 10 

The. Why suppose 

I can sir, what of that.? 
Id. Why then be wise, 

And love him quickly! 
Mop. Wise.'' then I'le have none of her, that's the way 

To get wise children, 'troth and I had rather 

They should be bastards. 15 

Amy. No, the children may 

Be like the Father. 
Id. True distracted Mortall: 

Thestylis, I say love him hee's a foole. 
Dor. But we will make him rich, then 'tis no matter. 
The. But what estate shall he assure upon mee? 
lo. A Royall joynture all in Fairy land. 20 

Amy. Such will I make Vrania! 
lo. Dorylas knows it, 

A curious Parke. 
Dor. Pal'd round about with Pick-teeth. 

lo. Besides a house made all of mother of Pearle; 

An Ivory Teniscourt. 
Dor. A nutmeg Parlour. 



278 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

lo. A saphyre dary-roome. 

Do. A Ginger hall. 25 

lo. Chambers of Agate. 

Do. Kitchins of all Chrystall. 

Am. O admirable! This is it for certaine! 

lo. The jacks are gold. 

Do. The spits are Spanish needles. 

Id. Then there be walkes. 

Do. Of Amber. 

lo. Curious orchards. 

Do. That bear as well in winter as in summer. 30 

lo. Bove all the fishponds! every pond is full, 

Do. Of Nectar: will this please you.'' every grove 

Stor'd with delightfuU birds. 
Mop. But be there any 

Lady-birds there? 
lo. Abundance. 

Mop. And Cuckoes too 

To presage constancy.? 35 

Do. Yes. 

The. Nay then lets in 

To scale the writings. 
Amy. There boy, so, ho, ho. Exeunt. 

Do. What pretty things are these both to be borne 

To Lands and Livings, we poore witty knaves, 

Have no inheritance but Braines: who's this.? 

Enter Alexis. 

One of my Mistresse beagles. 40 

Ale. Dorylas, 

I have had the bravest sport. 

(25) dary-roome] dining-room '68. (36) so, ho, ho, ho. '40b, ff. 

(29) walkes '38. (38) Livings! '40b, flF. 

(34) U . '38. 



AMYNTAS 279 

Do. In what, Alexis^. 

Al. In hunting, Dory las: a brace of Grayhounds 
cours'd a stag 

With equall swiftnesse till the wearied deere, 

Stood bay at both alike: the fearfull doggs 

Durst neither fasten. 
Do. So, and did not you 45 

Compare the stag to my fair mistresse? ha! 

Persued by you and Damon, caught by neither? 
Ale, By Cupid th'art i'th right. 
Dor. Alas poore whelpes. 

In troth I pitty you! Why such a hunting 

Have we had here: Two puppies of a litter, 50 

Mopsus and wise locastus hunting folly 

With a full mouth. 
Alex. I much wonder, Dorylas, 

Amyntas can be sad, having such follies 

To provoke mirth. 
Do. And to that end his sister 

Keepes them about him; but in vaine, his Melan- 
choly 55 

Has took so deepe impression. 
Enter Damon. 
Da. My Alexis 

Well met, I'ave been at your cottage to seeke you. 
Alex. But I am ne're at home; Thou and I, Damouy 

Are absent from our selves. 
Do. Excellent application! 

To see the wit of love! 
Da. Let us goe seeke her, 60 

To have a finall judgement. 



(56) so] such '40a, ff. 
(56) AUxisI '4oa,b ff. 



28o THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Alex. That may end 

One of our miseries, and the others Hfe! 
Do. O lamentable! who would be in love? 
Da. Content. 



SCEN. 7. 

Laurinda. Dorylas. Alexis. Damon. 

Da. Here comes my joy or death. 

Do. O pittifuU! 

Al. My sweet affliction. 

Do. Pitifully sweet! 

Nere feare your father, Mistresse, kisse securely, 

I'le be your Mercury, and charme a sleepe 

Old Argus. 
Lau. Doe. 

Do. But if he chance to spy 5 

You and your sweet-hearts here, I know not of it. 
Lau. You doe not! 
Do. Nay you know if I had scene them, 

I should have told him. 
Lau. Y'are a trusty servant. 

Do. Poore Dorylas is blind, he sees not here 

Damon, no nor Alexis. 
Lau. No not heel 10 

Do. Alack I am innocent: if the belly swell 

I did not fetch the poison. 
Lau. No, begone. Exit Dorylas. 

Da. Laurinda now for mercy sake give period 

To our long miseries. 

(8) I should have told him.] om. '64, '68. (13) mercies '64, '68. 

(9) here. '40b. (14) You now are like '68. 

(10) Damon. No nor '40b. 



AMTNTAS 281 

Alex. Now you are like cruel 

To both, and play the tyrant equally, 15 

On him you hate as much as him you love. 
Da. Depriving one the comfort of his joy. 
Ale. The other the sure remedy of his death! 
Lau. Damon you have a Love, fair Amaryllis, 

Content your selfe with her. 20 

Da. rie rather kisse 

An Ethiops crisped lip: imbrace a Viper! 

Deformity it selfe to her is fair. 
Al. Damon thou hast thy answer. 
Lau. And Alexis^ 

There be in Sicilie many Virgins more 24 

Worthy your choice: why did you plac't on mee? 

Goe seeke some other. 
Alex. O those words to me 

Are Poyson. 
Da. But to me an Antidote. 

Al. Thus she gave life to me to tak't away: 
Da. And me she slew to raise me up againe: 

You shall not slight us thus, what doe you thinke 30 

Of mee? 
Lau. Thou art the glory of the woods. 

Alex. And what am I? 

Lau. The pride of all the Plaines. 

Ale. These your ambiguous termes have now too oft 

Deluded us. 
Da. Shew by some sign which of us 

You have design'd for happinesse. 35 

Lau. So I will. 

Shee takes Damon s Garland and zveares it on her 
own head: and puts her own on Alexis. 

(16) as him] as on him '52. (26) O] om. '52. 



282 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Damon, as I affect thee, so I vow 
To wear this Garland that adornes thy brow: 
This wreath of flowres, Alexis, which was mine 
Because thou lov'st me truly, shall be thine. 
This is plain dealing; let not Cupid's warres 40 
Drive your affections to uncivill jarres! Exit. 

Da. Now happy Damon, shee thy Garland weares 

That holds thy heart chain'd in her golden haires! 

Alex. Most blessed I! this Garland once did twine 
About her head, that now imbraces mine. 45 

Dam. Desist Alexis, for she deignes to have 
The Garland that was mine. 

Alex. But me she gave 

That which was hers. 

Da. Tis more to take then give. 

Alex. I think 'tis greater kindnesse to receive. 49 

Da. By this your share's the lesse, you but receive. 

Al. And by your argument, yours you did but give! 

Love is the Garland. 

Da. Then shee did approve 

Of my affection best, shee took my love. 

Ale. Fond Damon, she accepted love from thee, 

But what is more, she gave her love to mee; 55 
In giving that to mee, she proves my right. 

Da. Why took she mine, but meaning to requite.? 

Alex. I will dispute no more. 

Da. Then let our speares 

Plead for us, 

Alex. And determine of our feares. 

Come Damon, by this argument let us prove, 60 
Which tis of us Laurinda best doth love. 

Da. Yet tis, Alexis, clean against our oath. 

(46) designs '68. (58) spheares '52 



AMYNTAS 283 

Alex. True, Damon, and perchance may ruine both! 

Da. So neither shall enjoy her. 

Ale. Cruell breath! 

Besides this is the Sacred Vale, tis death 65 

To staine the hallowed grasse but with one drop 
Of humane blood. 

Da. So both should loose their hope! 

Ale. And what is more, 'tis against her commands. 

Da. Whose every breath has powre to stay our 

hands. 

Ale. Wee'l have her answer make a certain end. 

Da. Till then, Alexis, let me be thy friend. 

Ale. Come Damon, lets together seeke reliefe. 

Da. Tis fit, being Rivalls both in love and griefe. 

Finis Actus secundi. 



ACTVS 3. SCEN I. 

Damon. Alexis. Laurinda. 

Dam. I Aurinda, by thy selfe, the sweetest oath 

-■— ^That can be sworn, 
Ale. By those faire eyes, whose light 

Comforts my soule; 
Dam. Whose heat inflameth mine; 

Ale. Vnlesse you deigne at length to end our strife. 
Da. We both have vow'd to sacrifice our life, 5 

Ale. On one anothers speare. 
Lau. What shall I doe.? 

I find an equal! warre within my soule, 

My selfe divided; now I would say Damon, 

Another time Alexis, then againe 

(2) sworn, '40b, ff. (3) comfort '38. 



284 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Damon, and then Alexis: like a sheapheard lo 

That sees on either hand a ravenous wolfe, 

One snatching from his ewe a tender Lamb, 

The other watching for a gentle Kid, 

Knowes not poore soule which hand to turne to first. 

Nowhe would save his Lamb; but seeing his Kid 15 

Halfe in the jaw of death, turnes back in hast 

To rescue that, where viewing then his Lamb 

In greater danger, runs to that again; 

As doubtfull which to save as which to loose: 

So fares it now with me. But love instruct mee! 20 

Da. Resolve. 

Ale. Or wee'l resolve. 

Lau. No trick left yet? 

Enter Dorylas. 

Dor. If ever one was pepper'd looke on mee! 

Lau. Why whats the matter? 

Do. You talke of Love and Cupid, 

I have been plagu'd with a whole swarme of Cupids 

Ale. What should this meane? 25 

Do. I know not, but I am sure 

I have a thousand naturall rapiers 
Stick in my flesh! 

Da. The meaning of the riddle? 

Ale. The morall? 

Do. In plain tearmes I have been driving 

One of your swarmes of Bees, gentle Laurinda; 

Lau. The purest waxe give Damon: and, good 
swaine, 30 

The hony to Alexis: This is plain. 

Do. Now will the hony and the wax fall together by 

th' eares. 

(24) whole] om. '68. (25) What] what '38. 



AMTNTAS 285 

Da. Alexis, this plain signe confirmes her grant, 

She gave me waxe to seale the covenant. 
Do. Well argu'd for the waxe, now for the hony. 35 

Ale. To me she gave the hony, that must be 

The sweetest, and the sweetest sweet is shee. 
Do. The hony is the sweeter argument. 

Da. But by the waxe she saies that she from none 

But mee will take true loves impression. 40 

Do. The waxe is very forward to the bargain; 

He would be sealing of her. 
Ale. But plain the hony speakes, no other guest 

But I, shall tast in her a lovers feast. 
Do. Delicious reason, my mouth waters at it, 45 

Dam. The waxe must make the Taper that must 
light 

The wedded paire to bed on Hymen s night: 

Besides 'tis virgins waxe, by that you see 

To me she destines her virginity. 
Do. Two excellent twin-arguments borne at a 

birth. so 

Ale. And hony shewes a wedding; that must knead 

A cake for Hymen ere we goe to bed. 

Take you the waxe, the hony is for mee; 

There is no hony in the world but shee. 
Dor. His disputation still has some good relish in't. 55 
Da. I see, Alexis, all Laurindas bees 

Serve but to sting us both. 
Dor. Now, whats the matter? 

The morall? 
Lau. See what 'tis to live a maid! 

Now two at once doe serve us and adore, 

Shee that weds one, serves him, serv'd her before. 60 

(38) sweetest 'S2- ff. (44) tast] take '52. 



286 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Da. Alexis come! 

Al. Come Damon\ 

Da. Cure my feare. 

Al. There's no helpe left but in a Pelian speare! 

Lau. O stay your hands, for by my maidenhead 

Dor. Happy the man shall quit her of that oath. 
Ale. Most happy Dorylasl 6$ 

Do. I knew that before! 

Lau. I have protested never to disclose 

Which 'tis that best I love: But the first Nymph, 
As soone as Titan guilds the Easterne hills, 
And chirping birds, the Saints-bell of the day, 
Ring in our eares a warning to devotion, 70 

That lucky damsell what so e're she be 
Shall be the Goddesse to appoint my love. 
To say, Laurinda this shall be your choice: 
And both shall sweare to stand to her award! 
Both. By fair Laurinda's hand we swear. 75 

Lau. Till then 

Be friends, and for this night it is my pleasure 
You sleep like friendly Rivalls arme in arme. 
Both. Thankes to the fair Laurindal 
Al. Come Damon, you this night with me shall 

rest. 
Da. Wert thou but my Laurinda I were blest. 80 

Exeunt Damon. Alexis. 

Dor. Mistresse, if they should dreame now. 

Lau. And they should.? 

(74) on her '40a, ff. 



AMYNTAS 287 

SCEN. 2. 

Amaryllis. Vrania. Doryllis. Laurinda. 

Vra. Sweet AmaryllisX 

Ama. Stay me not Franial 

Do. More Cupids, more bees, more stinging yet! 

Ama. Dishevel'd haire, poore ornament of the head 
rie teare you from my crowne! what dost thou here? 
Weake chaines! my pride presum'd you had a 
powre 5 

To fetter Heroes ! and in amorous Gives 
Lead any sheapheard captive! 

Vra. Amaryllis. 

Ama. But Damon breakes thee like a spiders loome! 
And thou poore face that wer't so oft beli'de 
For fair and beauteous, by my flattering glasse; 10 
rie tear those crimson roses from my cheekes, 
That but my selfe nere yet inchanted any. 
My will is fixt! 

Lau. Where goe you, Amaryllis} 

Ama. Since Damon hates my life I'le goe and see 14 
If I can please him in my death: if hee'le but 

deigne 
To kisse me, and accept my latest breath, 
I shall salute the Gods a happy soule. 

This dart I'le give him; and upon my knees 

Beg till I have obtain'd to dye by him: 

Death from that hand is welcome. 20 

Lau. I will shew you 

A way most probable to redeeme his love. 

(11) my] thy '68. 

(19) dye] om. '40b to dye by] it too by '68. 



288 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Ama. I shall wrong you, Laurindal No injoy him. 
The treasure of the Earth: my latest words 
Shall be praiers for you: mild Vrania, 
Sister in blood to Damon, not in affection, 25 

Nymph take this whistle, 'twas a Tritons once, 
With which I call my Lamb-kins when they stray; 
'Tis Amaryllis last bequeathment to you. 

Vra. Live happy sheapheardesse and weare it still! 

Ama. Laurinda, my great legacy is yours, 30 

Gentle-ungentle Damon. 

Lau. I re-bequeath him to my Amaryllis: 

Come therefore amorous maid, be rul'd by mee; 
This night wee'le sleepe together. 

Do. And shee too 

Should dreame of Damon. 35 

Lau. Dorylas, goe to Thestylis 
T' excuse her this nights absence. Amaryllis 
Wenches are nere so witty as a bed, 
And two together make a statesmans head. 
Begon to Thestylis. 

Do. So, I am sure 

Still Cupids factor: well ere long I see 40 

There will be many an heire the more for mee. 

Vra. My Bellamore y'are under good protection; 
The Temple gates will close unlesse I hast. 

Lau. Vrania, a happy night unto you! 

Vra. The like to her that pitties the distressed 
Amaryllis. 45 

Exeunt Lau. Ama. Vrania. 

Dor. So so, this hony with the very thought 

Has made my mouth so lickotish that I must 
Have something to appease the appetite. 

(30) is] in 'S2. (33) ;] ? '68. (36) .] , '38. 



AMYNTAS 289 

Have at locastus orchard ! dainty Apples, 
How lovely they looke! Why these are Dory las 
sweet-hearts. 50 

Now must I be the Princely Oberon, 
And in a royall humour with the rest 
Of royall Fairies attendant goe in state 
To rob an orchard: I have hid my robes 
On purpose in a hollow tree. Heaven blesse meeiss 
What Pucke, what Goblins this.? 
Claius. Dorylas. 

Cla. Thrice Sacred Valley, 

I kisse thy hallowed Earth! 

Do. Another lover, 

Enamour'd of the Ground! 

CI. Faine would I speake 

And aske for Amaryllis: but my feare 
Will not permit mee. 60 

Do. Slid; I thinke he takes mee 

For Oberon already. 

CI. Youth can you tell mee 

How I may speak to night with Amaryllis? 

Da. Age, by no meanes to night: this night shee 

lodges 
With fair Laurinda, old Medorus daughter. 

CI. Can you instruct me then how I may meet 65 

Amyntas? 

Do. Who, the madman.? Every evening 

He walkes abroad into the vallie here 
With Thestylis. Farewell old walking Ivibush. 

Exit Dor. 
Claius solus. 

('56) Claius. Dorylas. One line higher up in 40a, ff. 
(60) S'lid '40a, ff. 



290 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Cla. I see the smoake steame from the Cottage tops, 
The fearfull huswife rakes the embers up. 70 

All hush to bed. Sure no man will disturbe mee. 

blessed vally! I the wretched Claius 
Salute thy happy soyle, I that have liv'd 
Pelted with angry curses in a place 

As horrid as mygriefes, theLylibaean mountaines, 75 
These sixteene frozen winters, there have I 
Beene with rude out-lawes, living by such sinnes 
As runne o' th' score with justice 'gainst my prayers 

& wishes. 
And when I would have tumbled down a rock, 
Some secret powre restrain'd me: There I lately 

heard 80 

By a disconsolate Pilgrim that sought death, 
That my Amyntas wits (ah me!) were marr'd. 
Twas not a time to thinke to save my selfe 
When my poore boy was lost. Lost said I ? — 

Phoebus, 
If there be soveraigne power in juice of hearbs, 85 
And that the teeming earth yeeld medicinal flowres 
To cure all maladies, I have sought the skill; 
No leafe no root hath scap'd mee: I may boast it, 

1 have been natures diligent Apothecary. 

Be lucky my emplaister! I have temper'd 90 

The surest Recipe the worlds garden yeelds; 

'Twould put Orestes in his wits again. 

I know I step upon my death: the Oracle 

Desires my blood for sacrifice, and Pilumnus 

For his old hate still seekes it : make long stay 95 

I dare not, only I desire t'apply 

My medicine and be gone. Who's this I spy? 

(7S) Liiyan '62, '68. (82) ah] ha '40b, ff. (91) Receipt '52. 



; AMYNTAS 291 

j .' 

SCEN. 3. 

Thestylis. Amyntas. Mopsus. 

I doe remember now that countenance; 

It is my sister Thestylis, Tie stand close 

T'observe their actions. 
The. Would to Ceres 

She would be pleas'd at length to end her anger, 

And pitty poore Amyntas\ 
CI. So pray I. 5 

Amy. I have the bravest spaniell in the world, 

Of a sharpe sent and quick, so ho ho, so ho ho! 

Ringwood, lowler, Whitefoot, so ho ho! so ho ho! 
Mop. I shall be a whole kennell of dogs anon. 
Amy. Juno, Vulcan, Fenus! so ho ho, so ho ho! 10 
Mop. Lord what a heavenly puppy he makes me 

now! 
Amy. There Lady there! 
Mop. Ha? be there Lady-dogs as well as Lady-birds 

too? 
Amy. Beauty, Beauty. 
Mop. Slid I was never cal'd that name before: 15 

Thestylis, Amyntas calls me Beauty, 

I prethee come kisse mee. 
The. Thus I spend my life 

Laughing amidst my teares. 

(7) 80 ho ho! so ho ho ho! '62, '68. 

(8) so ho ho! so ho ho ho! '62, '68. 

(12-14) These lines are so divided in all the texts but they may be arranged: 

Amy. There Lady there! 

Mop. Ha? be there Lady-dogs 

As well as Lady-birds too? 
Amy. Beauty. Beauty. 

(13) too! '38. (is) S'lid '40a, ff. 



292 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Amy. Now Veriue Vertuel 

Mop. Is that a dog's name too? would I were hang'd 

If I'le have any of it for that trick. 20 

Amy. Dost thou not sent it yet? Close, close you 



rogue 



By Pan the curre hunts counter. 

Mop. Oh good master ! Bow wow, bow wow wow 

Amyn. So now he has't again. 

What at a fault you mungrell? will you never 25 

Start me this Oracle? 
Mop. Start an Oracle? 

As if an Oracle were a hare? 
Amy. So 'tis 

And skuds away so swift we cannot take it. 

Start me this Oracle. 
Mop. Start it who's will for mee, 

For I'le not start it. 
Amy. Then unkennell it. 30 

Mop. Vnkennell it? 
Amy. I, tis a Foxe a Foxe, 

A cunning crafty rogue: no body knowes 

Which way to finde him. Ha? what sent is this? 

Dost thou not smell? 
Mop. What? 

Amy. The meaning of the Oracle ? 

Vnkennell it, or I will lease thee. 35 

(22-24) These lines may be arranged. 

By Pan the curre hunts counter. 
Mop. Oh good master! 

Bow wow, bow wow wow 

Amyn. So now he has't again. 

(29) who's] who '62, '68. 

(33) ha? '38 sent] om. '68. 

(34) Oracle. '40b, ff. 

(35) leashe '40a lashe '40b, '52 lash '62, '68. 



AMYNTAS 293 

Mop. Good sir, 

I have no skill in starting or unkennelling, 

But if you'l have me spring an Oracle. 

Amy. And wilt thou doe it? spring me then this 

Oracle! 
Mop. I that I will, my skill lies all in birds, 

Whose flight I feare I have observ'd so long 40 

That I am metamorphos'd to a spaniell. 
Amy. Looke how my hawke of understanding soares 

About the Partridge Oracle! ill luck! 

Tis at retreat againe. 
Mop. O shall I never 

Rid me of this misfortune! (thankes good omen) 45 

Cras, eras she saies, to morrow 'twill be better. 

A Crow cawes. 

Black bird I thank thee! 

Claius to them. 
The. Litle thinks the wretched Claius now 

How sad a life his poore Amyntas lives! 

CI. Too well unto his griefe. I'le goe unto 

him 50 

And follow him in his humor: — You have got 

A dainty spanniell, sir. 
Amy. I think the world 

Cannot aflFord his equall. 
Cla. What breed is hee? 

Amy. True Spartan Tie assure you. 
CI. Was the sire 

Of the same Country? 55 

Amy. No, as I remember 

He was an Irish Grey-hound, but the damme 

Came of Acteons brood. 

(44) at] a '40b, 's». 



294 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

CI. As how I pray? 

Amy. Why thus; Melampus was the sire of Lalaps, 
Lalaps to Lagon, Lagon to Ichnobates, 
Ichnobates to Pamphagus, and Pamphagus 60 

To Dorceus, he to Labros, that was sire 
To Oresitrophus, Oresitrophus 
To fleet Theridamas, Theridamas 
To swift Nebrophonos, Nebrophonos 
To the quick-nos'd Aellus; he to Dromas, 65 

Dromas to Tygris, Tygris to Orybasus, 
Orybasus to Pterelas, he to Nape, 
The damme of Mopsus. 

Mop. So then Orybasus 

Was my great grandfather. Though I be a Dog, 

I come of a good house. My Ancestors 70 

Were all of Noble names past understanding. 

What a brave man's my Master! where learn'd he 

All this? Ne're stirre now I could find in my heart 

To leave my Augury and study Heraldry; 

A man I think may learn't as well as t'other, 75 

Yet never fear of growing too wise upon't. 

And then will I record the pedigree 

Of all the dogs i'th'world. O that I had 

The Armes of all our house by th'Mothers side! 

CI. Sir I have brave things in a Basket for you. 80 

Give me your Dog, and you shall have 'em all. 

Amy. Take him. 

Mop. O heavens! and shall I change my master, 

One mad man for another? 

Amy. Curre be quiet, 

I have said it, and my will shall be a law. 

(58 and 59) Lelaps '40a, ff. (79) byth' '38. 

(59 and 60) Ichonbates '40b, '52, '62. 



AMYNTAS 295 

Mop. O good sir, for Melampus sake, and Dorceus 85 

Lalaps, Ichnobates, Lagon, Melanchetes, 

Labros, Nebrophonos, Oresitrophus, 

Tygris, Orybasus, Therydamas, 

Melius, Dromas, Nape, and the rest 

Of all my Noble ancestors deceas'd, 90 

Be mercifuU unto me! Pitty pitty 

The only hope of all our family. 
CI. Sir, can he fetch and carry? 

Amy. You shall see him. 

Fetch sirrah: there: the curre is runne, 

away. 

Help me to catch my dog: you'l bring you mun- 
grell ? 95 

Mop. Yes much! the birds will not advise me to it. 

Exit. 
The. Sylvan why gaze you on us? would you frolike 

With poor Amynta's madnes? 'twould ill beseem 
you 

To make our griefe your pastime. 
CI. Not I by heaven! 

My joyes are counterfeit, my sorrowes reall : 100 

(I cannot hold from weeping) ah you know not 

What griefe lies here within, (teares you'l betray 
me!) 

Give me my eye full of this noble sheapheard ! 

Who hath not heard how he hath chac'd the boare? 

And how his speare hath tome the panch of wolves. 

On th' barke of every tree his name's ingraven. 106 

Now Planet struck, and all that vertue vanish'd. 

(88) Orybatus'iS (loi) from] for '£2. 

(89) and all the rest '68. (104) ?] ! '38. 

(97) The Sylvan '40b, '52. (106) th'3 the '40b. 

(98) Amyntas's '68 ?] ; '38. 



296 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

The. Thy lookes are fierce, thy words bespeak thee 
Gentle. 

Amy. Why wep't he Thestylis^ 

The. I did not marke him. 

Amy. It was a mote in's eye: I'le kisse it out; no 
rie curie thy shackl'd looks, and crispe thy haire 
Like the streight-growing Cypresse. Come let's 

put 
Our heads together. Thou art more then mortall, 
And shal't expound to Ceres what she askes. 
It is a gallant Sylvan, Thestylis. 115 

CI. I am not skill'd in riddles, no interpreter 

Of Divinations, but dare contend 
With any Empyrick to doe a cure, 
Whether the body or the minde be sick. 
That is my study, I but crave the leave 120 

To try the powre of art upon this sheapheard. 
If jEsculapius be propitious to him, 
After the dew of one nights softer slumbers, 
I dare be bold to say he shall recover. 

Amy. My dog againe.? dost read it in the starres.? 125 
What a strange man is this? 

CI. Thy wits, Amyntasy 

I meane; O cast thy armes in my embraces, 
Speak carefuU Nymph how came he thus distracted? 

Amy. I doe you meane? with a very-very-very mad 

trick 

By making verses. 

CI. Rest rest deluded fancy! 130 

The. There was a time (alas that ere it was.) 
When my poore sheapheard fell in love. 

{109) ?] !'38. (ill) locks '68. 

(no) eyes: '40a, '40b, '52. (129) a very-very-very-very mad trick: '68. 



AMYNTAS 297 

CI. With whom? 

The. The starre of beauty, Pilumnu's much admir'd 

Frania. 
CI. O the crosse darts of fate! 

The. Shee sweet Nymph inlodged 

The casket of his love in her own bosome, 135 

But Ceres set a Dowry. Out alasse! 

Would shee had bid us quench the flames of 

In Arethusa's streames, it had been easy. 

We fight with words and cannot conquer them; 

This her Imperious Ompha ask'd, and Thunder'di40 

That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have 

Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave. 

To find out her commands, he lost himselfe. 

CI. Your storie's pittifuU: Tis my profession 144 

To wander through the Earth, and in my Travell, 
I am inquisitive after the sick to heale 'em: 
Their cure and kind acceptance is my pay. 
You will not fear to lodge me for a night? 

The. We have but homely hospitality. 

Amy. He feast thee with some Venison, brave Mon- 
tana. 150 

CI. Thy restitution is my feast Amyntas; 

Your curdes and chestnuts and your country fare 
Is bounteous for so meane a guest as I : 
But send for that Frania her sweet voice 
Must sing a Lullaby to drowne his senses, 155 

And charme soft sleepe upon his troubled phancy. 
And 'fore the gray-eyd morne doe peepe, be 
confident 

(133) Pilumnus 40a ff. (154) Frania; '62, '68. 

(139) words2 cords '52. 



298 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

rie put the muslque of his braines in tune. 
You'l call Vrania. 

The. Doubt not sir, I will. 

Or send my servant Mycon by the Vale. 160 

Amy. Come Sylvan, if the dogs doe barke I'le braine 
*em; 
Wee'l sleepe to night together, and to morrow, 

CI. Will end I hope thy madnesse, not my sorrow. 

Amy. Wee'l goe a hunting, so ho ho! so ho ho! Exeunt. 
Mopsus from the Orchard. 

Mop. Are the mad dogs gone yet? 165 

A little more would have perswaded mee 
Into a spaniell: and I may be one 
For any thing I know: Yet sure I am not 
Because methinkes I speake; but an this speaking 
Should be but barking now: If I be a dog 170 

Heaven send me a better Master then the former. 
Ceres defend me what strange Elves are there! 

(159) Col. You'l call '38, '40a, '40b, $2. 

(169) an] and '62, '68.. (170) :] ? '40b, ff. 



SCEN. 4. 

Dorylas with a Bevy of Fairies. 

Dor. How like you now my Grace? is not my 
countenance 
Royall and full of Majesty? Walke not I 
Like the young Prince o{ Pigmies ? Ha ? my knaves, 
Wee'l fill our pockets. Looke looke yonder, Elves, 
Would not yon apples tempt a better conscience 5 
Then any we have to rob an Orchard? ha! 

(1) now] may '40b om. '68. (2) Walk I not '68. (6) !] ? '68. 



AMYNTAS 299 

Fairies, like Nymphs with child, must have the 

things 
They long for. You sing here a Fairy catch 
In that strange tongue I taught you: while our selfe 
Doe clime the Trees. Thus Princely Oberon 10 
Ascends his throne of State. 

Nos beata Fauni Proles, 
^uibus non est magna moles, 
Elves ^uamvis Lunam incolamus, 

Hortos scepe Jrequentamus. 15 

Furto cuncta magis bella, 
Furto dulcior Puella. 
Furto omnia decora. 
Furto poma dulciora. 

Cum mortales lecto jacent, 20 

Nobis poma noctu placent. 
Ilia tamen sunt ingrata. 
Nisi furto sint parata. 

locastus. Bromius. 

lo. What divine noyse fraught with immortall 

harmony 
Salutes mine eare.? 25 

Bro. Why this immortall Harmony 

Rather salutes your Orchard: these young Rascalls 
These pescod-shalers doe so cheat my Master: 

(9) our] your '40b, '52, '62, my '68. (18) omma '52. 

(13) magnamoles '38. (19) Furto'] Cum '40b, ff. 

(16) cuncto '68 ,]. '68. (25) ears '68. 

This poetry is not divided into stanzas in 40b, ff. 
(27) pescod-shelers '40b, '52 pescod shellers '62, '68. 



300 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

We cannot have an apple in the Orchard, 
But straight some Fairy longs for't: well if I 29 
Might have my will, a whip again should jerk h'em, 
Into their old mortality: 

lo. Dar'st thou schreetch-owie 

With thy rude croaking interrupt their musique; 
Whose melody hath made the spheares to lay 
Their heavenly lutes aside, only to listen 
To their more charming notes? 35 

Bro. Say what you will, 

I say a cudgell now were excellent Musique. 

Oberon descende citus. 
Elves. Ne cogaris hinc invitus. 

Canes audio latrantes, 
Et mortales vigilantes. 40 

lo. Prince Oberon^ I heard his Graces name. 

Bro. O ho: I spy his Grace! Most noble Prince 

Come downe, or I will pelt your Grace with stones, 
That I believe your Grace was ne're so pelted 
Since t'was a Grace. 45 

Do Bold mortall, hold thy hand. 

Bro. Immortall Thiefe come down, or I will fetch 

you: 
Methidhs it should impaire his Graces honour 
To steale poore mortals apples: Now have at you! 

Dor. locastus, we are Oberon, and we thought 

That one so neere to us as you in favour. 
Would not have sufFer'd this prophane rude groome 
Thus to impaire our royaltie. 

(30) h'em '40b, '52 'em '62, '68 

(31) old] om. '68. 



AMTNTAS 301 

lo. Gracious Prince, 

The fellow is a foole, and not yet purged 

From his mortalitie. 
Do. Did we out of love 

And our intire affection, of all Orchards 55 

Chuse yours to make it happy by our dances, 

Light ayry measures, and fantastique rings! 

And you ingratefull mortall thus requite us. 

All for one Apple! 
lo. Villaine th'hast undone me: 

His Grace is much incens'd. 60 

Do. You know, locastus. 

Our Grace have Orchards of our owne more 
precious 

Then mortals can have any: And we sent you 

A Present of them t'other day. 
lo. *Tis right, 

Your Graces humble servant must acknowledge it. 
Bro. Some of his owne I am sure. 65 

Do. I must confesse 

Their outside look'd something like yours indeed; 

But then the tast more relish'd of eternitie, 

The same with Nectar. 
lo. Your good Grace is welcome 

To anything I have: Nay, Gentlemen 

Pray doe not you spare neither. 
Elves. Ti-ti-ta-te. 70 

lo. What say these mighty peeres, great Oberon ? 

Do. They cannot speak this language, but in ours 

They thank you, and they say they will have none, 
Elves. Ti-ti-ta-ti- Tititatie 
lo. What say they now? 75 

(56) your's '38. (58) ungrateful '68 requites '38. 



302 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Do. They doe request you now 

To grant them leave to dance a Fayry ring 
About your servant, and for his offence 
Pinch him : doe you the while command the traitour 
Not dare to stirre, not once presume to mutter. 

lo. Traytour, for so Prince Oberoti deignes to call 

thee, 80 

Stirre not nor mutter. 

Bro. To be thus abus'd! 

lo. Ha.? mutter'st thou.? 

Bro. I have deserved better. 

lo. Still mutter'st thou .? 

Bro. I see I must endure it. 

lo. Yet mutter'st thou .? Now Noble Lords begin 

When it shall please your honours. 85 

Do. Ti ti tatie. 

Our noble freind permits, Tititatie: 
Doe you not sir? 

lo. How should I say I doe? 

Do. Ti ti tatie. 

lo. Ti ti tatie my Noble Lords. 

^uoniam per te violamur 
Elves Vngues hie experiamur. 90 

Statim dices tibi datam 
Cutem valdb variatam. 

They dance. 

Id. Tititatie to your Lordships for this excellent 

musick 
Bro. This 'tis to have a coxcombe to on's master. 

(7S) rebust '52. (93) Lordship for his '68. 

(89) per te'] parte ' $2. (94) one's '52, ff. 



AMTNTAS 303 

lo. Still mutter'st thou? 95 

Exit Bromius. 
Dory las from the tree: locastus falls on his knees. 

Do. And rise up Sir locastus, our deare Knight. 

Now hang the hallowed bell about his neck, 
We call it a mellisonant Tingle Tangle, 
(Indeed a sheep-bell stolne from's own fat wether.) 

aside. 
The ensigne of his knighthood, 'iixv locastus, 100 
Wee call to mind we promis'd you long since 
The President of our Dances place; we are now 
Pleas'd to confirme it on you: give him there 
His Staffe of Dignity. 

lo. Your Grace is pleas'd 

To honour your poor leigeman. 

Do. Now begone. 105 

lo. Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you, 

Tititatie my Noble Lords farewell. Exit. 

Dor. Tititatie my noble foole farewell: 

Now, my Nobility and honourd Lords, 109 

Our grace is pleas'd for to part stakes; here localo 
These are your share; these his, and these our 

Graces. 
Have we not guU'd him bravely! see you Rascalls, 
These are the fruits of witty knavery. 
Mopsus enters harking. 

Dor. Heaven shield Prince Oberon, and his honour'd 
Lords! 
We are betraid. 

Mop. Bow wow wow. IIS 

(100) his] this '68. 

(107) Lord '68 *Exit.'\ not indicated in '40b, '52. 

(ill) your] you '40b. 

(112) !] ?'68 



304 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Nay nay since you have made a sheepe of my 
Brother 

rie be a dog to keepe him. 
Do. O good Mopsus ! 

Mop. Does not your Grace, most lowe and mighty 
DorylaSf 

Feare whipping now? 
Do. Good Mopsus but conceale us. 

And I will promise by to morrow night 120 

To get thee Thestylis. 
Mop. I will aske leave 

Of the birds first. An owle.? the bird of night; 

An owle shreekes. 

That plainly shewes that by to morrow night, 

He may perform his promise. 
Do. And I will. 

Mop. Why then I will conceale you. But your 
Grace 125 

Must thinke your Grace beholding to mee. 
Do. Well: 

We doe. 
Mop. And thanke the owle, she stood your friend. 

And for this time my witty Grace farewell. 
Do. Nay be not so discourteous; Stay and take 

An apple first: you localo give him one, 130 

And you another, and our Grace a third. 
Mop. Your Grace is liberall: But now I feare 

I am not hee that must interpret th' Oracle. 

My brother will prevent me, to my griefe 

I much suspect it, for this Dorylas 135 

A scarre-crow cozend him most shamefully. 

Which makes me feare hee's a more foole then I. 

Exit Mopsus. 

(126) :] .40b , 'si ? '68. 



AMTNTAS 305 

Dor. So, we are clean got off: come noble Peeres 
Of Fairy, come, attend our Royall Grace. 
Lets goe and share our fruit with our Queen Mab,i40 
And th'other Darymaids; where of this theam 
We will discourse amidst our Cakes and Cream. 

Cum tot poma habeamus. 
Elves. Triumphos lati iam canamus. 

Faunos ego credam ortos 145 

Tantum ut frequentent hortos. 

I domum Oberon ad illas 

^ua nos manent nunc ancillas. 

^uarum osculemur sinum, 

Inter poma, lac, ^ vinum. 150 

Finis Actus tertii. 



ACTVS 4. SCEN I. 

Mopsus, Thestilis. 

Mop. T would have you know Thestilis, so I would 
A I am no dog, but mortall flesh and blood 

As you are. 
Thes. O be patient gentle Mopsus. 

Mop. Slid, fetch and carry! 
Thes. Nay good sweet heart 

Be not so angry. 
Mop. Angry.? why 'twould anger 5 

A dog indeed to be so us'd, a dog! 

I would not use a dog so: bid a dog 

That comes of a good house to fetch and carry! 

{4) S'lid '40a, fF. (s) so] om. '$2. 



306 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Discourteous! let him get dogs of his own, 

For I have got my neck out of the collar. lo 

Let him unkennell's Oracles himselfe 

For Mofsus, if I starte or spring him one 

rie dye the dogs death and be hang'd: mad foole! 

Thes. But Mopsus, you may now securely visit 

Mee and my house: Amyntas, heaven beprais'd,is 
Is now recover'd of his wits again. 

Mop. How? and grown wise! 

Thes. Ceres be prais'd as ever. 

Mop. Shut up your doores then; Carduus Benedictus 
Or Dragon water may doe good upon him. 

Thes. What mean you Mopsus? 20 

Mop. Mean I ? what mean you 

To invite me to your house when 'tis infected? 

Thes. Infected ? 

Mop. I, Amyntas has the Wits. 
And doe you think I'le keepe him company? 
Though, as I told you still, I am suspitious 
locastus is the man that must 

The. Doe what? 25 

Mop. It grieves me to think of it. 

The. Out with't man. 

Mop. That must interpret; I have cause to think 
(With sorrow be it spoken) he will prove 
The verier foole, but let him; yet now my Augury 
That never failes me, tells me certainly 30 

That I shall have thee, Thestylis, yet ere night; 
It was an owle 

(18) Carduus, Benedictus '40b, '52, 
(21) what mean you? '52. 
(24) told you, still I am '68. 



AMTNTAS 307 

ScEN. 2. 
Claius. Amyntas. 

And see see, Thestylis, 

Here comes the Ivy bush. Fie stand aside, 
For I am still most bodily afraid. 

Amy. What Deity lives here? the soul of Phoehus 
Breaths in this powerfuU man: sure ^sculapius 5 
Revisits earth againe; and in this shape 
Deales health amongst us! I before was nothing 
But bruit and beast: O tell me by what reliques 
Of heavenly fire you have inspir'd me with 
This better soule of reason! worthy sir, 10 

If y'are some God (as lesse I cannot deeme you) 
That pittying of my miseries, came downe 
From heaven to cure mee, tell mee, that I may 
With sacrifice adore you. 

Mop. Adore him ? 

Are there such Ruffian Gods in heaven as he? 15 
Such beggarly Deities.? 

Amyn. If you will conceale it, 

And I by ignorance omit to pay 
Those sacred duties that I ought, be pleas'd 
To pardon me. 

Mop. Heighday! well T'Z?i?j-/3;/w, 

You may be glad your house is not infected; 20 

Hee's ten times madder now then ere he was, 

To deify this rude ill-favour'd Silvan, 

This fellow with the beard all over: Thestylis, 

I dare not stay; unlesse my heeles maintaine 24 

My safety I shall turne a dog againe. Exit Mopsus. 

(4) lives? the soul '62, '68. 



3o8 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Clai. I am as you are, mortall; 'tis my skill 
In Physick, and experience in the rare 
Vertue of herbes, that wrought this miracle; 
No Divinity, or power in me. 

Tbest. Amyntas, when shall we requite this kind- 
nesse? 30 

Amynt. Never, I would willingly 

Have sacrific'd unto him, but his modesty 

Will not permit it: though he will not suffer us 

T'adore him as a God, yet we may pay 

A reverence to him as a father. 35 

Claius. O those words doe touch the quick ! 

Amyn. For if he be 

A father that begot this flesh, this clay. 
What's he to whom we owe our second birth 
Of soule and reason.? Father, I must call you 
By that name, father. 40 

Claius. Now the floudgates open, {aside 

And the full stream of teares will issue out: 
Traitors, you will betray me! 

Thest. Sir, why weepe you? 

Claius. To thinke of this man's father O I lov'd 

him 
As dearely as my selfe! (my words and all 
Breake out suspitious!) has he not a daughter? 45 
As I remember well, he said her name was 

The. Amaryllis. 

Cla. Yes, I had almost 

Forgot it, I would faine have seene her too. 

Thest. You cannot now, because to night she lodg'd 
With one Laurinda. 50 

(39) Father; '52 

(40) floud-gate's '40b, '52. 



AMTNTAS 309 

SCEN. 3. 

Vrania. 

Amy. O my Vrania, welcome, 

Amyntas bids thee so, I that 'till now 

Was not Amyntas: come my joy, and meet mee 

Full of our happinesse! 
Vra. Grant Ceres now 

My hopes be faithfull to me: my Amyntas, 5 

How came your thoughts so setled ? 
Amyn. O Vrania, 

Here, here he stands, to whom I owe my selfe. 

And thou owest me: we reverence in our Temples 

Marble, and brasse, whose statues serve for nothing 

But to hang cobwebs on: oh ! how much rather 10 

Should we adore this Deity, that bestowed 

Such happinesse upon us! 
Vra. Would we knew 

How to deserve it. 
Cla. So you may Vrania, 

If you will grant me one request. 
Vra. Command it. 

Cla. I would intreat you presently to vow 16 

Virginity to Ceres, that Amyntas 

No more may toyle his brain in thinking what 

To give you for a Dowry. 
Vra. Sir, I will 

Presently about it, I'le only first 

Get some unknown disguise. 20 

Claius. I dare stay here 

No longer, for I must begon ere yet 

The light betrayes me. 

(S) to me, my Amyntas. '40b, '52 me, my Amyntas, '62, '68. 
(8) Temple '52. (21) be gone '52, ff. 



3IO THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Vra. Happinesse attend you! 

Cla. Remember it Vrania. 

Amyn. Farewell father. 

Exeunt Fran. Amynt. Thestyl. 
Claius Solus. 

Clai. Thus like a bat, or owle I spend my age 

In night or darknesse, as asham'd of day, 25 

And fearefull of the light: the sunne and I 
Dare never be acquainted. O guilt, guilt. 
Thou and thy daughter feare are punishments 
Perpetuall, every whistling of the wind 29 

Doth seeme the noise of apprehenders; shadowes 
Affright me more then men. Each step I tread 
Is danger. Life.? why to live longer should we 
Not live at all? I heare anoyse: false timorousnesse 

Deceive me not, my eyes instruct me too. 

Heaven shield me 3S 

(33) ?] : '38. 
SCEN. 4. 

Alexis. Damon. 

Fain I would enquire of them 

For Amaryllis, but if one of these 

Bee Damon, I am lost 
Alex. How early, Damon, doe lovers rise? 
Cla. Tis he, I heare his name, good mole away. 

Dam. No Larkes so soon, Alexis. 

(3-6) These lines are so divided in all the editions. They may, however, be thus 
arranged to make blank verse: 

Bee Damon, I am lost. 
AUx. How early, Damon, 

Doe lovers rise? 
Cla. Tis he, I heare his name. 

Good mole away. Exit. 

Dam. No Larkes so soon, Alexis. 



AMTNTAS 311 

Alex. He that of us shall have Laurinda, Damon 

Will not be up so soone: ha! would you Damon? 
Dam. Alexis, no; but if I misse Laurinda, 

My sleepe shall be eternall. 10 

Alex. I much wonder the Sunne so soone can rise! 
Da. Did he lay his head in faire Laurinda s lap, 

We should have but short daies. 
Alex. No summer, Damon. 

Dam. Thetis to her is browne. 
Alex. And he doth rise 

From her to gaze on faire Laurinda' s eyes. 15 

Dam. O now I long to meet our Arbitresse. 
Alex. On whom depends our only happinesse. 
Dam. It must be the first Virgin that we greet 

From Ceres Temple. 
Alex. Yes, the first we meet. 

Dam. I heare no noise of any yet that move. 20 

Alex. Devotion's not so early up as love. 
Dam. See how Aurora blushes! we suppose 

Where Tithon lay to night. 
Alex. That modest rose 

He grafted there. 
Dam. O heaven, 'tis all I seeke 

To make that colour in Laurinda's cheeke. 25 

Alex. The virgins now come from the Temple. 
Dam. Appeale unto the first. 

(13) Alexis. We should '38. 
(17) only] daily '52. 



312 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

SCEN. 5. 

The virgins passe over the stage with waxe candles 
in their hands, Amaryllis goes the first, but she is 
staid by Damon, as unknown to be Amaryllis, she 
being vail'd and having on her head the garland that 
Laurinda took from Damon. 

Chast beauteous Nymph 

Ceres so grant your prayers, as you determine 

Justly our cause! 
Amar. Ceres has heard my prayers, 

For all my morning orisons beg'd no more 

Then one kind word from Damon. 
Dam. Amaryllis! S 

Alex. That name breaths life & soul to poore Alexis. 
Amar. The same; — why startle you? you have not 
met 

A poyson, Damon. 
Dam. Yes a thousand vipers 

Have stung my soule. 
Alex. As many joyes crown mine 

With happinesse. 10 

Dam. Would I had met this morning 

Infectious vapors nursing plagues, not thee; 

No curse but that had power to ruin mee! 
Alex. No other blessing hath preserved mee. 
Amar. What should this mean, my Damon? how 
have I 

Displeas'd you, sweet? heaven knowes it is my 
praier iS 

More then for heaven, to please you. 

(ll) vapors, '62, '68. 



AMTNTAS 313 

Da. O my torture! 

Fly hence as farre as hell, and hide thy head 

Lower then darknesse; would thou had'st been 
acting 

Incest or murder, when thou cam'st to pray: 

Thou hadst in any thing sinn'd lesse then this: 20 

Vnseasonable devotion! 
Amar. Can it be 

A sin to pray for Damon} 
Dam. Thou had'st blest mee 

Had'st thou sate all this while in some dark cell 

Loading my head with curses. 
Ama. Innocence 

Let me not understand you, 25 

Dam. rie not stand 

To her award, she is a partial! judge. 

And will decree unjustly. 
Ama. How, to Damon} 

To him she loves so deerely? 
Dam. That's the reason; 

Shee does confesse, Alexis, that she loves me, 

That's argument enough against her. 3° 

Amar. Ceres, these obscure passions move me. 
Alex. I'le instruct you. 

Take here the paper, pen and inke. 
Ama. Why yet sir 

I know no more. 
Alex. You are to passe your censure, 

Being the first Nymph that we have met this 
morning, 

(27) How to Damon? '40b, ff. 

(30-31) These lines would be more metrical if they should be arranged: 

That's argument enough against her. 
Amar. Ceres, 

These obscure passions move me. 



314 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Which of us two must have the faire Laurinda. 35 

Write your award; our mutuall oathes doe bind 
us 

Not to deny't. 
Da. 'Tis a meere plot contriv'd 

Betwixt this cursed Nymph, and you, Alexis. 
Alex. Damon, you wrong us both. 
Dam. Where did you steale 

This Garland? it was mine. 40 

Ama. For that I love it. 

Because it once was thine. 
Da. For that I hate it, 

'Cause it is thine, had it been true to mee. 

Me thinkes as soone as it had toucht thy head 

It should have withered. 
Amar. So it would have done 

Had it not first touch't yours. Laurinda gave 
me 45 

This Garland, but nere told me of this accident. 
Da. Alexis, you deale false, 'tis a conspiracy 

*Twixt you and her. 
Alex. How can it? you know, Damon, 

I have not beene one minute from your presence. 
Da. You tooke your time while I was sleeping. 50 

Alex. Neither, 

Nor I nor you could sleepe one winke this night, 

The expectation of this morning tryall 

Did keepe us both awake. 
Da. I doe not know, 

But there is some trick in't, and Fie appeale 

From her too partiall sentence. 55 

(38) Nymph and you, '40b, ff. 
(41) / '38. 



AM TNT AS 315 

AU. rie the while goe fetch Laurinda, shee shall 

force you stand 

Vnto her tryall. Exit. 

Amar. Damon, thy harsh language is more then death 

Vnto me. 
Da. I doe charge you to teare the paper. 

And refuse to judge between us. 60 

Amar. No, I am resolv'd to write what I determine. 

Da. Now thou hast indeed a time wherein thou 

maist 
Revenge my scorne. Take it, but I'le prevent thee. 

he strikes her. 

Amar. Welcome death ! 

From him all things are so. Damon, fly hence, 65 
Thou hast shed bloud here in the Sacred Valley, 
Make hast away or thou art lost for ever. 

Dam. Thy counsell's good, no matter whose the guilt. 

Exit Damon. 

Ama. What was it he said last ? Thou hast indeed 

A time wherein thou maist revenge my scorne. 70 
With love, no otherwise : and there thou shalt not 

(56) This should undoubtedly be arranged thus, to finish out line JS: 

Ale. I'le the while 

Goe fetch Laurinda, shee shall force you stand 

(58-64) These lines will scan if rearranged as follows: 

Amar. Damon, thy harsh language 

Is more then death unto me. 
Da. I doe charge you 

To tear the paper, and refuse to judge 

Between us. 
Amar. No, I am resolved to write 

What I determine. 
Da. Now thou hast indeed 

A time wherein thou maist revenge my scorne. 

Take it, but I'le prevent thee. he strikes her. 

Amar. Welcome death! 

(S9) doe] om. '68. (63) scorne; take it: '68. 

(61) what] om. '40b, '52. (70) my] thy '52. 



3l6 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Prevent mee, Damon. I will write This inke 

Deserves not to record the name of Damon, 

Tis black and ugly; thou thy selfe hast furnisht mee 

With that of better colour. 'Tis my blood 75 

That's truly Cupids inke: love ought to write 

Only with that; — . This paper is too course; 

O that I had my heart, to write it there! 

But so it is already. Would I had 

A Parchment made of my own skin, in that 80 

To write the truth of my affection, 

A wonder to posterity! Hand make hast 

As my bloud does, or I shall faint I feare 
Ere I have done my story. 

ScEN. 6. 

Enter Dorylas. 

Dor. These milkemaids are the daintiest rogues, 
they kisse 
As sweet as sillibubs, surely Oberon 
Lives a delirious life! Ha! who lies here? 
A Nymph.? If't were but now in Oherons power 
To steale away her maidenhead, as she sleepes: s 
O 'twould be excellent sport, to see how shee 
Would misse it when she wakes: what misery 'tis 
To be a boy; why could not my good father 
Have got me five yeares sooner.'' here had been 
A purchase: well, 'tis but five yeares longer 10 
And I shall hope to see a merrier world. 
No body neere too! Slid the very thought's 
Enough to make me man oth sudden, well 
rie kisse her though. 

(3) Ha who '40b, '52. (12) S'lid *40a, ff. 

(7) 'tis] it is '40b, ff. (13) o 'the '40b, '$2 o'th '62, '68. 



AMTNTAS 317 

Amar. O I faint. 

Dor. She dreames; 14 

Now shall I know all secrets: These same women 

Are given so much to talke when they are awake 

That they prate sleeping too. 
Amar. My blood congeales 

Within my quill, and I can write no more. 
Dor. Love letters .? she was troubled yester night 

About inditeing, and she dreames on't now. 20 

Poore sleepy secretary! 
Ama. I will fold it up 

And send it; who's that's here? my eyes 

Are dimme, ha, Dorylas! 
Dor. Now she dreames she gives it me to carry; 

I halfe feare I use to carry letters in my sleepe, 25 

Wearying my selfe all night, and that's the reason 

I am so loath to rise i'th morning. 
Ama. Dorylas^ carry this letter for mee. 
Dor. I thought so, 

That's all that I can doe, carry their letters, 29 

Or runne of errands: well, come five yeares hence 

They may imploy me better. Vnto whom is it? 
Ama. Vnto Laurinda, take it. 
Dor. How, a red letter? 

Amar. Say I wish all health to her and Damon; 

And being not able for to beare my griefes, 34 

I sought a remedy from mine own speare and died. 

(24-28) These lines may be rearranged as follows: 
Dot. Now she dreames 

She gives it me to carry; I halfe feare 

I use to carry letters in my sleepe. 

Wearying my selfe all night, and that's the reason 

I am so loath to rise i'th morning. 
Ama. Dorylas, 

Carry this letter for mee. 

(31) mel be '52. 



3l8 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Dor. How dead ? oh mee, 

See how her blood hath stain'd the holy Valley ! 
Well you have done me wrong to kill your selfe, 
Only to have me sacrific'd on the Altar, 
I nere deserv'd it. 
Ama. Fear not Dorylas. ^o 

Dot. Fear not to dye so like a calfe? oh 

Dorylas oh 

Ama. Good Dorylas be gone, whilest yet my breath 

Will give me leave to say it was not you. 
Dor. See that you doe, and so farewell. Exit. 

Amar. Farewell! 

How fearfuU death is unto them, whose life 45 

Had any sweetnesse in it! my daies have all 
Been so oreworne with sorrow, that this wound 
Is unto me rather a salve then sore, 
More physick then disease: whither my journey 
Shall lead me now; through what dark hideous 
place, 50 

Among what monsters, hags and snake-hair'd 

Furies, 
Am I to goe, I know not; but my life 
Hath been so spotlesse, chast, and innocent, 
My death so undeserv'd, I have no reason 
(If there be Gods) but to expect the best; ss 

Yet what doth most torment me, is the thought 
How long 'twill bee ere I again enjoy 
My Damon's presence: untill then, Elysium 
Will be no place of pleasure; and perchance 59 
When he comes thither too, he then may slight mee 

As much as now. That very feare doth make 

thee 
Dye, wretched Amaryllis! 

(42) while '62, '68. 



AMYNrAS 319 

SCEN. 7. 

Enter Claius. 

Cla. How no feare 

Can make me loose the father! Death or danger 
Threat what you can; I have no heart to goe 
Back to the mountaines, 'till my eyes have seen 
My Amaryllis] 

Amar. O was ever love 

So cros'd as mine! was ever Nymph so wretched 
As Amaryllis^. 

Cla. Ha! I heard the sound 

O^ Amaryllis; where's that blessed creature, 
That owes the name? are you the Virgin? 

Ama. Yes, 

That fatall name is mine. I shall anon 
Be nothing but the name. 10 

Cla. O speak, what hand. 

What barbarous Tigers issue, what cursed whelpe 
Of Beares or Lyon, had the marble heart 
To wound so sweet a Nymph? 

Amar. O sir, my bloud 

Calls nShe but fortune guilty. I by chance 
Stumbled on mine own dart, and hurt my selfe. 15 

Clai. Then I have hearbs to cure it: heaven I thank 
thee 
That didst instruct me hither! still the bloud 
Flowes like a scarlet torrent, whose quick streame 
Will not be checkt: speak Amarillis, quickly. 
What hand this sinne hath stain'd, upon whose 
soule 20 

(5) I] ? '68. (12) Lyons '40b, '52 Lions '62, '68. 

(6) ?3 ! '68. (is) mine] my '68. 



320 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

This bloud writes murther; till you see the man 
Before your eyes, that gave the hurt, all hope 

In Physick is despaire: She will not speak, 

And now the cure growes to the last. Yet here 
I have a Recipe will revive her spirits, 25 

And 'till the last drop of her blood be clean 

Applies a medicine and rubs her temples. 
Exhausted from those azure veines, preserve her; 
But then shee's lost for ever! Then, O Ceres., 
If there be any in these groves, men, virgins, 
Beast, bird, or trees, or any thing detesting 30 

This horrid fact, reveale it! Sacred grasse 
Whose hallowed greene this bloudy deed hath 

stain'd, 
Aske nature for a tongue to name the murtherer! 

rie to the Temple: If this place containe 

Any Divinity, Piety, or Religion, 35 

If there be any God at home, or Priest, 
Ompha, or Oracle, Shrine, or Altar, speake 
Who did it: who is guilty of this sinne, 
That dyes the earth with bloud, & makes the 

heavens 
Asham'd to stand a witnesse? 4° 

(25) receipt '40b, ff. 

(•26) temples^ tiplts '38. In the original editions this stage direction Is in the 
margin opposite 11. 26-29. 
(29) Virgin, '40b, '52. 

SCEN. 8. 

Enter Pilumnus. Corymhus. 

Pilum. What sad voyce 

Disturbs our pious Orgyes ? 
Cor. See, Pilumnus, 

A virgin all in gore. 



AMYNTAS 321 

Pil. Ceres defend us; 

The Sacred Vally is prophan'd. 
Cor. The place 

So deare to Ceres, all defil'd with bloud. 5 

Pil. By Ceres, and her holy Ompha, hee 

That did it, with his blood shall satisfy 

The Goddesse anger; who by blood offends 

By his own sacrific'd, must make amends. 
Cla. I durst presume upon the power of art, 10 

Did I but know the murtherer. 
Pil. Howsoever 

'Tis death to him that did it. 
Cor. Speake his name 

Faire virgin. 
Ama. O— if it be death to him 

That did it, I have not the power to live 

Beyond him. 15 

Cor. Why, who was it then ? 

Jma. My selfe, 

And in my death your law is satisfied, 

The blood and act both mine. 
Cla. It is not so, 

For had it been by her own hand, my skill 

Could have preserv'd her life. 
Amar. It was my selfe. 

Or one as deare. 
Cla. Who's that? 20 

Ama. rie rather dye 

Then name him, though it be a name I use 

Oft to repeat, and every repetition 

Is a new soule unto mee: 'tis a name 

I have taught the birds to caroll, every 

(23) 'tis my name '68. 



322 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Laurell and Cedar beares it registred 25 

Vpon his tender barke; it is a name 

In which is all the life I yet have left; 

A name I long to speake; yet I had rather 

Dye all the severall sorts of death twice over 

Then speake it once. 30 

Clai. I charge thee by that duty 
Thou ow'st to me, Amarillis, that thou owest to me 
Who gave thee life. 

Pil. What should this mean CorymbusX 

CI. And by the womb that bare thee, by the breasts 

Of thy dead mother, Lalage, 

Cor. This is strange. 

Cla. Conceale him not! in plain, I am thy father 35 

Thy father, Amarillis, that commands thee 
By these gray haires to tell mee. I am Claius. 

Pilum. How, Claiusl and so fortunatly found! 

Claius. I, glut your hate, Pilumnus; let your soule 
That has so long thirsted to drinke my blood, 40 
Swill till my veines are empty; and carowse 
Deep in my heart, till you grow drunke, and reele. 
And vomit up the surfet, that your cruelty 
Quaft off with so much pleasure; I have stood 
Long like a fatall oake, at which great love 45 

Levels his thunder; all my boughes long since 
Blasted and wither'd; now the trunke falls too. 
Heaven end thy wrath in mee! 

Pilum. Blessed be Ceres\ 

What unexpected happines is here? 
Rejoyce Sicilians; miserable lovers, 5° 

Crowne all your browes with roses, and adore 
The Deity that sent him : he is come 

(32) !] ? '68. (49) ?] ! '68. (50) ;] , '68 om. '40b, '52. 



AMYNTAS 323 

Whose blood must quench the fire of Ceres wrath. 

And kindle more auspitious flames of love 

In every brest. 55 

Cla. I, doe, I feare not death. 

Let every Virgins hand when I am slaine 
Ring me a knell of Plaudits: let my Dirges 
Be amorous Ditties, and in stead of weeping 
Dance at my funerall! Tis no griefe for mee 
To dye to make my countrymen some sport. 60 
Here's one in whom I only wish to live 
Another age. 

Amar. What joy have I to live. 

That nere liv'd yet.^' the time that I have spent 
Since first I wept, then, when I first had entrance 
Into this world, this cold and sorrowfuU world, 65 
Was but a scene of sorrow; wretched I! 
Fatall to both my parents! For my birth 
Ruin'd my mother, and my death my father. 
O Tragick life! I either should have been 
Nere borne, or nere have died. When I began 70 
To be, my sinne began, why should it then 
Out live mee? for, though now I cease to be, 
That still continues: Eyes, flow forth a pace. 
And be asham'd to see my wound run blood 

Faster then you drop teares 75 

Enter Damon. 

See, here he comes. 
His absence never untill now I wisht. 

Dam. My Conscience brings me back, the feet of 
guilt 
Goe slow and dull, 'tis hard to run away 
From that we beare about us! 

(63) ?] : '38. fyo) ne're '62 (72) Out-live '40a, '40b, '52. 



324 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Cla. The Murtherer 

Is it this place, the issue of her blood 80 

Is stop'd o'th' sudden. Cruel man, 'tis thou 
Hast done this bloudy act, that will disgrace 
The story of our nation, and imprint 
So deepe a blemish in the age we live in 
For savage Barbarisme, that eternity 85 

Shall nere weare out: Pilumnus, on my knees 
I beg the justice of Sicilian lawes 
Against this monster. 

Pilum. Claius, 'tis your hate, 

And old revenge instructs you to accuse 
My Sonne: you would have fellowes in your 
death, 90 

And to that purpose you pretend, I know not 
What mysteries of art! 

Cla. Speak Amaryllis 

Is't not this wolfe? 

Pilum. Say, virgin, was it hee? 

Ama. O, I am angry with my blood for stopping! 
This coward ebbe against my will betraies mee; 95 
The streame is turned, my eyes run faster now. 

Pilum. Can you accuse my sonne.'' 

Amar. By Ceres, no; 

I have no heart to doe it: does that face 
Look cruell? doe those eyes sparkle with hate, 
Or malice? Tell me. Father, lookes that brow loo 
As if it could but frowne? Say, can you thinke 
Tis possible Damon could have the heart 
To wound a Virgin? surely barbarous cruelty 
Dwels not in such a brest: mercy, and mildnesse, 
Courtesy, love, and sweetnesse breath in him, 105 

(81) oth' '38. (99) doe] does 'S2. 



AMTNTAS 325 

Not Anger, wrath, or murther; Damon was not 
Fed at a Thracian teat, Venus did send 
Her Doves to nurse him, and can he be cruell? 
Whence should he learne so much of barbarisme 
As thus to wrong a Virgin? if he wound mee no 
Tis only from his eyes, where loves blind God 
Whets his pil'd arrowes; He besides, you know, 
Had never cause to wrong mee, for he knowes 
Alwaies I lov'd him: Father, doe not wrong 
An innocent; his soule is white, and pure, 115 

Tis sinne to thinke there lives a sinne in him; 
Impiety to accuse him. 

Clai. In his lookes 

He carries guilt, whose horror breeds this strange 
And obstinate silence: shame, and his conscience 
Will not permit him to deny it. 

Amur. Tis, alas 120 

His modest, bashfuU nature, and pure innocence, 
That makes him silent: think you that bright rose 
That buds within his cheekes, was planted there 
By guilt or shame? no he has alwaies been 
So unacquainted with all act of sinne, 125 

That but to be suspected strikes him dumb 
With wonder and amazement. For by Ceres 
(I think my oath be lawfuU) I my selfe 
Was cause of this. 

Cla. Still I am confident 

'Twas hee. 130 

Pilum. It is your envy makes you so. 

(125) acts '68. 



326 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

SCEN. 9. 
Alexis. Laurinda. 

Lau. I will Alexis, 

And so he must if oathes be any tye. 

Alex. To lovers they are none, we break those 
bonds 
As easily as threds of silke: A bracelet 
Made of your maidens haire's a stronger chaine s 
Then twenty cobweb oathes, which while we 

break 
Vemis but laughs: it must be your perswasion 
That works him to it. 

Lau. Damon, you must stand 

To what you promis'd, how shall I believe 
Those other oathes you sweare, if you respect 10 
This one no better? It was my device 
To have her judge, was it not, Amaryllis? 
How, all in blood! 

Cla. Yes, this unmercifuU man 

(If he be man that can doe such a crime) 
Has wounded her. 15 

Amar. Indeed it was not hee. 

Pil. You see her selfe frees him. 

Lau. When last we left her 

She was with Damon. 

Amar. Pray believe her not, 

She speaks it out of anger, I nere saw 
Damon to day before. 

Alex. And when we left 'em 

He was incens'd. 20 

(6) ,] ; '40b, ff. (u) f] : '38. (14) be a mao '52. 



AMTNTAS 327 

Amar. You are no competent witnesse; 

You are his Rivall in Laurindas love, 
And speak not truth but malice; 'tis a plot 
To ruin innocence. 

Lau. O ungratefull man! 

The wolfe that does devoure the brest that nurst 

it 
Is not so bad as thou: here, here, this Letter 25 
Th' eternall Chronicle of affection. 
That ought with golden characters to be writ 
In Cupids Annals, will (false man) convince 

thee 
Of fowle ingratitude: you shall hear me read it. 

The Letter. 

Laurinda, you have put it unto mee 30 

To choose a husband j or you, I will he 

A judge impariiall, upright, just and true, 

Yet not so much unto my selfe as you. 
Alex. Now I expect to hear my blessed doome. 
Lau. Alexis well deserves, but Damon more; 35 

/ wish you him I wisht my selfe before. 
Alex. O, I am ruin'd in the height of hope. 

How like the hearb Solstitiall is a lover, 

Now borne, now dead again, he buds, sprouts 
forth. 

Flourishes, ripens, withers in a minute. 40 

Lau. Take him, the best of men, that ever eye 

Beheld, and live with him for whom I dye. 

Amarillis. 

Here look on't. — 

(22) ;] , '38. (28) Annall '52. 



328 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Dam. Writ with blood ? o let me kisse 

My bill of Accusation! here my name 45 

Lookes like my soule, all crimson, every line, 

Word, syllable, and letter, weares the livery 

Of my unnaturall action. Amarillis 

That name of all is black, which was alone 

Worthy so pretious inke; as if disdaining 50 

The character of cruelty, which the rest 

Were cloath'd in: for as if that word alone 

Did weare this morning colour, to bewaile 

The funerall of my vertue, that lies buried 54 

Here in this living tombe, this moving sepulchre. 

Lau. Know murtherer I hate thy bed, and thee, 
Unkind, unthankfull villaine. 

Ama. Nay, Laurinda, 

You have bound your selfe to stand to my award; 
The sentence now is past, and you must love him, 
It cannot be revers'd; you are deceiv'd, 60 

He is not guilty of this sinne, his love 
To me for mine, makes him against his conscience 
Seeme to confesse it, but believe him not. 

Lau. Nor will I, he is all falsehood, and ingratitude. 

Da. Laiirinda, you may spare in this harsh lan- 

guage 65 

To utter your dislike: had you a beauty 
More than immortall, and a face whose glory 
Farre outshind angels, I would make my choyce 
Here, and no where but here; her vertue now 
Moves a more noble flame within my brest 7° 

Then ere your beauty did; I am enamour'd 

(47) weare '40b, were '52 wear '62, '68. 

(56) murderer '68 thee] then '52. 

(62) To rae, '38 To me; '40a. 
(64) I] om. '38. 



AMTNTAS 329 

More of her soule, then ever yet I doted 
Upon your face: I doe confesse the fact; 
Pardon me vertuous maid, for though the action 
Be worthy death, the object most condemnes 

mee! 
Take me to death Corymbus; Jmarillis, 76 

I goe to write my story of repentance 
With the same inke, wherewith thou wrotes 

before 
The legend of thy love, farewell, farewell. 

Exeunt Corymb. Dam. 
Pil. Laurinda, and Alexis, doe you call 80 

The Sheapheards, and the virgins of Sicilia 
To see him sacrific'd, whose death must make 
Their loves more fortunate; this day shall be 
Happy to all Sicilians, but to mee. 84 

Yet come thou cursed Claius, the sweet comfort 
Which I shall take when my revenge is done. 
Will something ease the sorrow for my sonne. 
Clai. Amarillis, prethee call Amyntas to me, 
And Thestylis: I fain would have mine eye 
Behold them once again before I dye. 90 

Ex. Pil. Cla. 
Ale. Come my Laurinda, through how many 

chances, 
Suspicions, errors, sorrowes, doubts, and feares 
Love leads us to our pleasures! many stormes 
Have we sail'd through my Sweet, but who could 

feare 
A tempest, that had hope to harbour here? 95 

Ex. Alex. Lau. 

(78) So '40a: all other editions] wrote. 

(93) !] ; '38. 

(95) ?] • '38, '40a, '68. 



33° THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Amarillis sola. 

Amar. All, all but the distressed Amarillis 
Are happy, or lesse wretched; fair Laurinda 
Is ready for a wedding, old Pilumnus 
Hath lost a sonne, yet mitigates his griefe 
In Claius death, my father Claius dies, loo 

Yet joyes to have the sonne of his old enemy 
A partner of his sorrowes; my father looses 
Only himselfe; and Damon too no more; 
Amyntas but a father, onely I 

Have lost all these; I have lost Claius, Damon, 105 
And my selfe too; A father with Amyntas, 
And all the rest in Damon, and which more 
Affects mee, I am cause of all; Pilumnus 
Had not else lost his sonne, nor had Amyntas 
Wept for a Father, nor poore Thestylis iio 

Bewail'd a brother; Damon might have liv'd. 
And Claius but for mee; all circumstances 
Concurre to make my miseries compleat. 
And sorrowes perfect: for I lost my father 
As soone as I had found him, and my Damon 115 
As soone as I had found he lov'd mee: thus 
All I can find is losse; o too too wretched, 
Distressed virgin! when they both are dead 
Visit their Ashes, and first weepe an howre 
On Claius Vrne, then go, and spend another 120 
At Damon's; thence again goe wet the tombe 
Of thy dead father, and from thence returne 
Back to thy lovers grave; thus spend thy age 
In sorrowes; and till death doe end thy cares 
Betwixt these two equally share thy teares. 125 

finis Actus quarti. 



AMYNTAS 331 

ACTVS. 5. SCEN. I. 

Dorylas, and a Chorus of Stuaines. 



c 



Dor. ^^^^Ome neighbours, let's goe see the 

sacrifice 
Must make you happy lovers: oh 
'twill be 
A fortunate season! Father Coridon, 
You and old mother Baucis shall be friends. 
The sheepe-hooke and the distaffe shall shake 
hands. 5 

You lovely freeze-coats, nothing now but kissing, 
Kissing and culling, culling and kissing, heighdayl 
In hope it will be one day so with mee 
I am content to live. Now let's ascend. 



ScEN. 2. 

Alexis. Laurinda. Medorus. 

Alex. Now my Laurinda, now (o happy now!) 
All lets that stood between my joy and mee 
Are gone and fled. 

Lau. Long, o too long, Alexis, 

My doubtfuU fancy wavered whom to love, 
Damon, or you; in both was happinesse, 
But double happinesse was my single misery: 
So far'd it once, Alexis, (for I well 
Remember it) with one of my poore ewes. 
Equally mov'd between two tufts of grasse. 
This tempting one way, that inticing t'other, 

(i) Oh '40a O '40b, ff. 



332 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Now she would this, then that, then this againe, 
Vntill poore foole (true emblem of her mistresse) 
Shee almost starv'd in choosing which to feed on; 
At last (so heaven pittied the innocent foole) 
A westerne gale nipt one, which being blasted is 
Shee fed upon the other. 

Ale. Pretty fool! lets now no more deferre our 

nuptial joyes. 

Med. How sweet a folly is this love! But rash 
youth, Alexis, 
(As youth is rash) runnes indiscreetly on 
While mature judgment ripened by experience ao 
■ Stayes for loves season. 

Alex. Season? why, can love 

Be ever out of season ? 

Med. Yes, Alexis, 

Nothing's borne ripe, all things at first are greene. 

Alex. Lau. And such shall our affection still be scene. 

Med. You are to hasty reapers that doe call. as 

For Sickles in the spring. 

Alex. Loves harvest shall; 

(Lovers you know) his harvest ought to bee 
All the yeare long. 

Lau. In Cupids husbandry, 

Who reapes not in the spring, reapes not at all. 

Med. Woemen indeed too soone begin their fall. 30 
Yet till curst Claius dye, as now he must, 
Alexis, and Laurinda, let my counsell 
Asswage the heat of youth; pray be perswaded 

(12) Until the poor fool '68. 

(17) Pretty fool!] These words of Alexis undoubtedly belong to I. 16, which 
is metrically incomplete, while I.17 is complete without them. 

(18) !1 ? '38. 
(23) .] . '38. 

(26) .] : '38 Loves, '38. 



AMYNTAS 333 

A little for to deferre your nuptiall blisse; 

'Tis but a while. 35 

Alex. A while in lov's an age. 

Lau. Maids in a while grow cold. 
Med. Temper loves fire. 

Alex. 'Tis but cold love that's temperate in desire. 
Med. Yet, loving paire, stay 'till a fayrer gale; 

He deserves shipwrack, ('tis the Marriners flout) 

And justly too, that in a storme sets out. 4° 

Lau. I will suppresse my flame, (ah still it glowes.) 
Alex. And I, but how unwilling Cupid knowes! 
Med. Tis well; now let's goe take our place, to see 

For our sad griefes a sadder remedy. 

(36) Temper love's fire. '62. 



SCEN. 3. 

Amyntas. Amarillis. 

Amur. — Yes, it was he: hee's in the temple brother, 
A place wherein he doth deserve a shrine, 
Yet is to him a prison; can you Gods 
Suffer the place that's reard unto your honours 
Be made so vile a thing? 5 

Amyn. Pray give me entrance: 

I am not mad, (and yet I would I were) 
Am I not mad to wish so? Let me come 
And see him, sure you had your selfe a father. 
Did you not wish to see him ere he died ? 
If he be dead, wee'l only pray a while, lo 

And weep; will tears pollute the hallowed Ompha? 
For we must shed them, yes, we cannot choose: 

(lo) dead: '38. 



334 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Come sister, he will let us, for though Lalage 
Was our sad mother, yet the Gods will let us 
Weepe for her: come, come Amarillis, come. is 

Exiu 

ScEN. 4. 

Mopus. locastus. 

locast. Brother, aread, what meanes his graces favour ? 
Mop. It signifies you bear the bell away, 

From all his Graces nobles. 
lo. Divinely Augur'd; 

For this rie make thee Augur to his grace. 
Mop. Belwether of Knight-hood, you shall bind me 
to you. 5 

lo. rie have't no more a sheep-bell; I am Knight 

Of the Mellisonant Tingletangle. 
Mop. Sure one of my progeny; tell me gratious 
brother, 

Was this Mellisonant Tingle tangle none 

Of old .(^c/(^o«J" hounds.? 10 

lo. Ignorant mortall! 

Thou dost not understand the termes of honour. 
Mop. How should I sir, my trees bear no such 

apples: 
lo. As mine, th' Hesperian fruit are crabbs to 

mine, 

Hence came the Knight-hood, hence. 

(l) aread,] read, '68. (3) ;] ! '40b, ff. (10) !] , '38. 

(12) How should I sir? my trees beares no such apples. '40b, ff. 

beares] bear '68. 
(14-16) These lines should probably be arranged as follows 

Hence came the Knight-hood, hence. 
Mop. The fame whereof 

Rings loud. 
lo. We know it. 

Mop. Foure such knight-hoods more 



AMYNTAS 335 

Mop. The fame whereof rings loud. ij 

lo. We know it. 

Mop. Foure such knight-hoods more 

Would make an excellent peale. 
lo. I'le have 'em so. 

Mop. But you must get a squirell too, 
lo. For what? 

Mop. To ring your Knight-hoods. 
lo. rie have any thing, 

His grace will not deny me, o sweet orchard. 
Mop. To see the fruit that came of such an orchard! 
lo. But shall we not see Claius sacrific'd? 

Mop. Oh by all meanes. 

lo. But how deserv'd he death ? 

Mop. No matter for deserving it or no; 

Tis fit he suffer for example sake, 
lo. And not offend? 

Mop. Tis fit he should offend. 

They take their places. 

(20) ,] . '68 .] ! '40b, ff. 



SCEN. 5. 

Pilumnus with a sacrificing knife, fire laid on the 
Altar, a Priest holding a Taper ready to kindle it, 
another Priest powring water on Claius head, who 
was bound: Corymbus leading out Damon bound. 

Pit. Sicilians, Nature and religion 

Are at contention in mee: my sad soule 
Divided 'twixt my Goddesse and my sonne, 
Would in her strange distractions, either have mee 



336 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Turne Parricide or Apostate: AwefuU Ceres, 5 

For whom I feed the fattest of my Lambs, 
To whom I send the hoHest of my prayers 
Vpon the smoaky wings of sweetest myrrhe, 
Instruct thy doubtful Flamenl As I cannot 
Forget I am thy priest: for sooner shall lo 

Our Lambs forget to feed, our swaines to sing. 
Our Bees forget first, from the fruitfuU Thyme 
To cull them baggs of Nectar: every thing 
Forget his nature, ere I can forget 
I am thy Priest: Nor can I but remember 15 

That Damon is my sonne: yet take him Ceres! 
You need not powre water upon his head, 
rie doe it with my teares. Ceres, I hope 
Thy anger will not bind the Fathers eye 
To look into the Bowels of his sonne, 20 

rie therefore first spill on thy hallowed Altar 
This Captives blood; and then retire my selfe 
Not to be present at my Damons death, 
Least nature might turne Rebell to devotion. 

Song. 

Ceres, to whom tve owe that yet 25 

We doe not Mast and Acornes eat: 

That didst provide us better meat. 

The purest flower of finest wheat. 

This bloud we spill at thy desire 

To kindle and to quench a fire. 3° 

let it quench thy flame of ire. 

And kindle mercies more entire. 

(9) As] as '40b, '52. (30) a ire. '38 an ire. '40a. 

(19) blind '68. (31) jV<r,] ;ir/, '38, '40a. 



AMYNTAS 337 

let this guilty bloud atone 

For every poore unlucky one; 

Nymph, or Swain, who ere doe grone 35 

Vnder sad Loves imperious throne. 

That Love a happier age may see 

In thy long torturd Sicily. 

That blood which must th' Attonement hee 

Thus Goddesse, thus, we pay to thee] 40 

Amyntas. Amarillis. 

Amy. Stay, stay that impious hand, whose hasty 
zeale 
Thinks murther can appease the Goddesse wrath! 
If it be murther must appease her wrath, 
What is't can move her anger? Doe not then, 
Doe not pollute her Altar, least it keep 45 

The crimsod staine of bloud, and blush for ever, 
At this too cruell, ignorant devotion. 

Pil. Avoid the mad man. 

Amyn. Why Pilumnus, Why? 

By the dread Ompha, spare this guilty blood, 
And rie expound the Oracle. 5° 

What fire has yet his bloud or quench't or kindled? 

Pil. Why it hath quench't the sadder flames of 

love, 
And more auspitious fires begin to move. 

Amyn. Where? in what brest? No love in all Trinacria 
But under Cupids scepter faints and groanes SS 
More now then ever. Thy unfortunate Damon, 
And more unfortunate Amarillis stand 
A sad example; Thy Vrania 

(33) at one '40b, '52. (ji) Amyn. What fire has 

(42) murder '40b, ff. (54) Where in? in what '68. 

(43) murder '52, ff. 



338 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

(O sad sweet name!) may with her poore Amintas 

Witnesse his tyrannous reigne: \\txt \n Sicilia 60 

Turtles grow jealous, Doves are turn'd unchast, 

The very Pellicans of Trinacrean woods 

Are found unnaturall, and thirst the bloud 

Of their young brood, (alas who can believe it?) 

Whom they were wont to suckle with their own. 65 

O wretched season! Bitter fruits of love! 

The very Storks with us are Parricides. 

Nay even the senselesse trees are sensible 

Of this imperious rage: the gentle Vine 

(The happy embleme once of happier Lovers) 7° 

That with such amorous twines and close imbraces 

Did cling about the loved-loving elme. 

With slacker branches now falls down and withers; 

If then to adde more fuell to the flame. 

To powre in oyle and sulphure be to quench it, 75 

The flame is quench'd. Nor are you hee, Pi- 

lumnus, 
That must expound the Oracle, 'Tis a witt 
Such as mine is neglected, that must hit 
The Goddesse meaning: you, the living Oracle 79 
Of Sicilie, the breathing Ompha of the Kingdome 
Will misconceive the Goddesse; you are wise 
Skil'd in the vertues of all herbs, and flowers, 
What makes our Ewes ean best, what keeps them 

sound; 
Can tell us all the mysteries of heaven, 
The number, height, and motion of the starres; 85 
Tis a mad brain, an intellect you scorne 
That must unty this riddle. 

(60) Witnesse his tyrannous reigne here in Sicilia. '40b, ff. 

(83) ean] can '40b, '52 them] the '38. ;] ? '$2. 

(86) an] and '68 intellect, '38. (87) unite •40b, '52. 



AMYNTAS 339 

Pil. But I know 

The wrath of Ceres cannot be appeas'd 

But by the bloud of Claius. 
Amy. So it is. 

Pil. How can that bee? yet his accursed gore 90 

Hath not imbru'd the Altar. 
Amyn. But his bloud 

Hath been already shed in Amarillis: 

Shee is his bloud, so is Vrania yours, 

And Damon is your bloud; That is the bloud 

The Goddesse aimes at, that must still her ire, 9S 

For her bloud hath both quench't and kindled 
fire. 
Pil. What hath it quencht or kindled ? 

Amyn. Love, the fire 

That must be quench't and kindled. Damons 
love 

To his Laurinda in that bloud extinguish'd, 

Is by that powerfull bloud kindled anew 100 

To Amarillis, now grown his desire: 

Thus Claius bloud hath quench't and kindled fire. 
All. Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, 

Pil. And is the fire of my Damon kindled 

But to be quench't againe: Ceres] a frost 105 

Dwell on thy Altars, ere my zeale renew 

Religious fires to warme 'em. 
Amyn. Spare these blasphemies. 

For Damon is acquitted & assoil'd 

Of any trespasse. 
Pil. How Amyntas? speake! 

Thou that hast sav'd a Father, save a sonne. no 

(98) must] mnst '38. 

(los) :] ! '68 !] , '62, '68. 



340 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Amyn. Thus, Amarillis is the Sacrifice 

The Goddesse aim'd at: and the bloud of Sacrifice 

(As you all know) may lawfully be spilt 

Even in the Holy vale, and so it was; 

Besides your Damon is a Priest by birth, us 

And therefore by that Title, he may spill 

The sacrifized Amarillis bloud. 

If this interpretation be not true, 

Speak you Sicilians, Fie be judg'd by you. 

All. Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas. 120 

Pil. Amyntas, thou hast now made full amends 

For my Philebus death ; Claius all envy. 
Envy the viper of a venemous soule 
Shall quit my brest: This is the man, Sicilians, 
The man to whom you owe your liberties; 125 

Goe Virgins, and with Roses strow his way, 
Crowne him with violets, and lilly wreathes; 
Cut off your golden tresses, and from them 
Weave him a robe of love: Damon, pay here 
The debt of duty that thou ow'st to mee; 130 

Hence was thy second birth. 

Da. Or hither rather: 

The Balsame of Sicilia flowed from hence. 
Hence from this scarlet torrent, whose each drop 
Might ransome Cupid were he captive tane. 

Amaril. How much owe I my Damon, whose blest 
hand i35 

Made mee the publique sacrifice! could I shed 
As many drops of blood, even from the heart 
As Arethusa drops of water can, 
I would outvie her at the fullest tide. 
That other Virgins loues might happy be, 140 

And mine my Damon be as blest in thee. 

(in) J : '62 ; '68. (li8) sacrificed '40a, ff. 



AMTNTAS 341 

Clai. O what a showre of joy falls from mine eyesi 
The now too fortunate Claiusl my Amyntas, 
My Amarillis, how shall I divide 
My teares and joyes betwixt you! i4S 

Pil. Lovers come, 

Come all with flowry chaplets on your browes, 
And singing Hymmes to Ceres, walk around 
This happy village; to expresse our glee 
This day each yeare shall Cupids triumphs bee. 

Amyn. Still my impossible Dowry for Vrania 150 

Leaves mee unfortunate in the mid'st of joy; 
Yet out of piety I will heere a while 
(Though blest I am not 'till she be my bride) 
In publique joyes lay private griefes aside. 154 

Exeunt cum Choro cantantium. 

lo. And rie goe fetch the youngsters of the 

towne, 
The mortall Fairies, and the lasses browne, 
To bring spic'd cakes, and ale, to dance and play, 
Queen Mab her selfe shall keepe it holy-day. Exit. 

Mop. Ah Dorilas that I could not have the wit 

To have been a mad man rather then a foole. 160 
I have lost the credit. 

Dor. Tis no matter 

You shall have Thestylis. 

Mop. Shall I, Dory las, 

I had as live interpret her as Oracles. 

Dor. And here she comes, give me your quail pipe, 
harke you. Exit. 

Enter Thestylis. 

(148) ;] , '40a, ff. (160) mad-man '68. 

(*IS4) constantium '52. (162) .] , '38. 

(157) play. '68. 



342 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Mop. Now, Thestylis, thou shalt mine Oracle 

bee, i6s 

Hence forth I will interpret none but thee. 
Thes. Why haue the birds (my Mopsus) councel'd 

so? 
Mop. They say I must, whether you will or noe. 
Thes. How know I that? 

Mop. The birds doe speak it plain. 

Dorilas with a quaile pipe. 

Harke, Thestylis, the birds say so again. 170 

Thes. I understand them not. 
Mop. Will you be judg'd 

By th' next we meet? 
Thes. Mopsus, I am content, 

So you will stand unto it as well as I. 
Mop. By Ceres, Thestylis, most willingly. 

Enter Dorylas. 

Mop. Ah Dorilus, heard you what the birds did 
say ? 17s 

Dor. I Mopsus, you are a happy man to day. 
Mop. What said they boy? 

Dor. As if you did not know. 

Mop. But Thestylis. 
Dor. Why sure she understands it, 

Have you to her this language never read? 
Mop. No, Dorylas, I can teach her best in bed. 180 
Dor. The Birds said twice: (as you full well doe 
know) 

You must have Thestylis whether she will or no. 



(167) counsel'd '40b, ff. 

(*i69) This stage direction is in the margin opposite II. 169-170 in the old 
editions. 

(177) Dor.'] Mop. '62. 



AMYNTAS 343 

Thes. And am I caught ? Tis no great matter though ; 

For this time Mopsus I will marry thee; 

The next I wed, by Pan, shall wiser bee! 185 

Mop. And have I got thee? thankes my witty boy. 
Do. Harke, Thestylis, the birds doe bid you joy. 

Thes. For fooling Mopsus, now 'tis time give ore. 
Mop. Mad man I may, but will be foole no more. 
Thes. Mad after marriage as a foole before. 190 

For hee's a foole that weds, all wives being bad; 

And shee's a foole makes not her husband mad. 

(188) ,] ; '62, '68. 



SCEN. 6. 

locastus with a Morrice, himselfe maid 
Marrian, Bromius the Clowne. 

Dor. See, Mopsus, see, here comes your Fairy 
brother, 
Hark you, for one good turne deserves another. 

Exeunt Dor. Mop. 
locast. I did not think there had been such delight 
In any mortall Morrice, they doe caper 
Like quarter Fairies at the least: by my Knight- 
hood, 5 
And by this sweet Mellisonant Tingle tangle, 
The ensigne of my glory, you shall bee 
Of Oberons Revels. 
Bro. What to doe I pray? 
To dance away your Apples? 

(7) of) or '52. 

(9) your] our '40b, ff. f] . '38. 



344 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

locas. Surely mortall, 

Thou art not fit for any office there. lo 

Enter Dory las like the King of Fairies. Mopsus, 
lo. See, bhnd mortall, see, 

With what a port, what grace, what majesty 

This princely Oberon comes, your Grace is welcome. 
Do. A beauteous Lady, bright and rare, 

Queen Mab her selfe is not so faire. 15 

lo. Does your grace take me for a woman then? 

Do. Yes beauteous virgin; Thy each part 

Has shot an arrow through my heart; 

Thy blazing eye, thy lip so thinne. 

Thy azure cheek, & christall chinne, 20 

Thy rainbow brow, with many a rose; 

Thy saphyre eares, and ruby nose, 

All wound my soule, O gentle be 

Or Lady you will ruin mee. 24 

lo. Bromius, what shall I doe? I am no woman! 

If geelding of me will preserve your grace, 

With all my heart. 
Bro. ' No master, let him rather 

Steale away all your orchard Apples. 
lo. I and shall, 

Beauteous Queen Mab may loose her longing else. 
Do. How's this? are you no woman then? 30 

Can such bright beauty live with men? 
lo. An't please your grace, I am your Knight 

locastus. 
Do. Indeed I thought no man but hee 

Could of such perfect beauty bee. 
lo. Cannot your Grace distill me to a woman ? 35 

(28) I, and he shall, '62, '68. 
(3S) U • '38, '40a, '40b. 



AMYNTAS 345 

Do. I have an hearb, they Moly call, 

Can change thy shape (my sweet) and shall. 

To tast this Moly but agree, 

And thou shalt perfect woman bee. 
lo. With all my heart; nere let me move 40 

But I am up to th' eares in love. 

But what if I doe marry thee? 
Do. My Queene locasta thou shalt bee: 

lo. Sweet Moly I pray let Bromius have some 

Moly too, 

Hee'l make a very pretty waiting maid. 45 

Bro. No indeed forsooth, you have Ladies enough 

already. 
Do. Halfe your estate then give to mee, 

Else, you being gone, there none will be, 

Whose Orchard I dare here frequent. 
lo. Sweet Oberon, I am content. 50 

Do. The other halfe let Mopsus take. 

lo. And Thestylis a joynture make. 

Bro. Why master, are you mad ^ 
lo. Your mistresse sirrah. 

Our grace has said it, and it shall be so. 
Bro. What, will you give away all your estate? 55 
lo. We have enough beside in Fairy land. 

You Thestylis shall be our maid of honour. 
Thes. I humbly thank your Grace. 
lo. ' Come Princely Oberon, 

I long to tast this Moly: pray bestow 59 

The Knight-hood of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle, 

Vpon our brother Mopsus, we will raise 

All of our house to honours. 

(37) Can] C an. '38. (47) Do.] /o. '52. (62) honour '62, '68. 

(4.1) the eares '40b, '52. (55) away] om. '62, '68. 



346 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Mop. Gracious sister! 

lo. I alwaies thought I was borne to be a Queene. 

Do. Come let us walke, majestique Queene, 

Of Fairy mortalls to be seene. 65 

In chaires of Pearle thou plac't shalt bee, 

And Empresses shall envy thee, 

When they behold upon our throne 

locasta with her Dorilas. 

All. Ha, ha, ha! 70 

lo. Am I deceiv'd and cheated, guld and fool'd? 

Mop. Alas sir you were borne to be a Queene. 
lo. My lands, my livings, and my orchard gone? 

Dor. Your grace hath said it, and it must be so, 
Bro. You have enough beside in Fairyland. 75 

Thes. What would your Grace command your maid 

of honour.'' 
Dor. Well I restore your lands: only the orchard 

I will reserve for fear Queen Mab should long. 
Mop. Part rie restore unto my liberall sister 

In leiw of my great Knighthood. 80 

Thes. Part give I. 

lo. I am beholding to your liberality. 

Bro. rie some thing give as well as doe the rest. 

Take my fooles coat, for you deserve it best. 
lo. I shall grow wiser. 

Dor. Oberon will be glad on't. 

Thes. I must goe call Vrania that she may 85 

Come vow Virginity. Exit. 

(77) orchar'd '38. 
(84) on't '38. 



AMTNTAS 347 

ScEN. 7. 

Pilumnus. Amyntas. ^c. 

Amyn. Ceres, I doe thank thee, 

That I am author of this pubHque joy: 
But is it justice (Goddesse) I alone 
Should have no share in't? Every one I see 
Is happy but my selfe that made 'em so, 5 

And my Vrania that should most be so. 
I thirst amid the Bowles; when others sit 
Quaffing off Nectar, I but hold the cup; 
And stand a sadder Tantalus of love, 
Starving in all this plenty; Cere's Demand 10 

Feeds me with gall; stretching my doubtfull 

thoughts 
On many thousand racks: I would my Dowry 
Was all the gold of Tagus, or the ore 
Of bright Pactolus channell: — - But, Vrania, 
Tis hid, alas I know not what it is. 15 

ScEN. 8. 

Vrania. The sty lis. 

My Thestylis, since first the Sea-gods Trident 
Did rule the small three pointed peece of earth 
Of this our conquering soile, it has not been 
A place of so much story as to day, 
So full of wonders: O 'twill serve (my Thestylis) 5 
For our discourse when we goe fold our Ewes, 
Those Sheapheards that another day shall keep 

(l) This line not indented in '38, '40a, '40b, '52. 

(6) fol'd '38. 



348 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Their Kiddes upon these mountaines shall for ever 
Relate the miracle to their wondring Nymphs, 
Of my Frania; it will fill their eares lo 

With admiration. 

Thes. Sir, Frania s here. 

Amyn. How! is this habit! This me thinks befits not 
A Lover, my Frania. 

Fra. Yes, Amyntas. 

This habit well befits a Virgins life. 
For since my Dowry never can be paid 15 

Thus for thy sake I'le live and dye a maid. 

Amyn. O is it just, so faire a one as you 

Should vow Virginity.'' must the sacred womb 
Of my Frania fit to have brought forth 
A fruitfuU race of Gods, be ever barren .? 20 

Never expect Lucina.? shall this beauty 
Live but one age? how curs'd is our posterity 
That shall have no Frania s\ can one Tombe 
Contain all goodnesse.? Ceres rather blast 
The corne thou gav'st us: let the earth grow 
barren; 25 

These trees, and flowers wither eternally; 
Let our Plowes toyle in vaine, and let there be 
No more a harvest: Every losse is small, 
Yea though the Phanix selfe should burne to 

ashes 
And nere revive again! But let there be 3° 

Some more Frania s 

Pilum. 'Tis necessity, 

We must obey. 

Amyn. But yet Frania, 

I hope we may sometimes come pray together; 

(22) curs'd is] curs'd's *40b, '%Z. 



AMTNTAS 349 

'Tis not prophane, and mid'st our sacred Ori- 
sons 35 
Change a chast kisse or two; or shall I too 

Turne Virgin with thee? But I foole my selfe, 

The Gods intend to crosse us, and in vaine 
We strive (Frania) to crosse them again. 
Vrania kneeling before the Ompha. 
Fran. Great Ceres, for thy daughter Proserpines 
sake 40 

Ravisht by Pluto from Sicilian plaines 
To raigne with him Queen of Elysian shades, 
Accept the sacrifice of a Virgin, for 
It is thy Pleasure, thine, by whom the earth 
And every thing growes fruitful!, to have mee 45 
Be ever barren: Thy impossible Dowry, 
Makes me despaire to be Amyntas bride; 
Therefore that cold chast snow that never should 
Have melted but betwixt his amorous armes 
I vow unto thy Cloyster (AwfuU Goddesse!) 50 
Almighty Ceres, is not this life holy ? 

Echo. Folly. 
Better then live in an unhappy love? 

Ec. Happy love. 
Be judge ye woods, & let Amyntas speak. 

Ec. Amyntas, speak. 
Pil. The Goddesse is well pleas'd, she daines to 

answer 
By gracious Echo's; goe Amyntas speak. 55 

Amyn. Why, will she answer mee before Frania? 
No, 'twas the musique of her Angels voice. 
Whose heavenly Accents with such charming notes 
Ravish'd the Goddesse eares, she could not choose 

(51) ?]om. '38, 



3 so THOMAS RANDOLPH 

But bear a part in that harmonious song; 60 

Yet if she will after such melody 
Endure to hear the harsh Amyntas speak. 

Ec. Amyntas, speak. 
When wilt thou think my torments are enow? 

Ec. Now. 
Alas, how is it possible I should hope it.? 

Echo. Hope it. 
How shall I pay the Dowry that you aske mee.? 65 

Echo. Aske mee. 
I aske a Dowry to be made a Husband. 

Echo. A Husband. 
Answer directly to what I said last. 

Echo. What I said last. 
A Husband, Ceres? Why is that the guesse? 

Ec. Yes. 

That which I have not, may not, cannot have, 

I have not, may not, cannot have a Husband. 70 
Tis true, I am a man, nor would I change 
My sexe, to be the Empresse of the world. 
Frania, take thy Dowry, 'tis my selfe; 
A Husband, take it. 
Fran. Tis the richest Dowry 

That ere my most ambitious praiers could beg! 75 
But I will bring a portion, my Amyntas, 
Shall equall it, if it can equall'd bee: 
That which I have not, may not, cannot have 
Shall be thy portion, 'tis a wife, Amyntas. 
Amyn. Should greater Queenes wooe mee in all their 
Pride, 80 

And in their laps bring me the wealth of worlds, 
I should prefer this portion 'fore the best: 

(79) •] om. '38. (82) 'fore] (or '40b, ff. 



AMTNTAS 351 

Thankes Ceres, that hast made us both be blest. 

Echo. Be blest. 

Clai. Pilumnus, let us now grow young againe, 

And like two trees robb'd of their leafy boughes 85 
By winter, age, and Boreas keener breath, 
Sprout forth and bud again: This spring of joy 
Cuts forty yeares away from the gray summe. 
Once more in triumph let us walke the Village! 

Pilum. But first I will intreat this company 90 

To deigne to take part in this publique joy. 

Pilumnus Epilogizes. 

All Loves are happy, none with us there bee, 
Now sick of coynesse, or unconstancy. 
The wealthy summes of Kisses doe amount 
To greater scores then curious art can count! 
Each eye is fix^d upon his Mistris face, 5 

And every arme is lock't in some embrace. 
Each cheeke is dimpled; every lip doth smile: 
Such happinesse I wish this blessed Isle, 
This little world of Lovers: and least you 
Should think this bliss e no reall joyes, nor true, 10 
Would every Lady in this orbe might see 
Their Loves as happy as we say they be! 
And for you gentle youths, whose tender hearts 
Are not shot proof e 'gainst love and Cupids darts; 
These are my Prayrs, (/ would those prayrs were 
charmes) 15 

That each had here his Mistrisse in his armes. 
True Lovers, {for tis truth gives love delight) 
To you our Author only means to write. 

(18) Authors 'i^ uiritht '38. 



352 THOMAS RANDOLPH 

If he have pleas'd {as yet he doubtfull stands) 
For his applause clap lips instead of Hands. 
He beggs nor Bayes, nor Ivy; only this, 
Seale his wisht Plaudite with an amorous Kisse. 

Exeunt Cantantes. 



FINIS 



NOTES 



NOTES 
ON THE INTRODUCTORY POEMS 

Robert Randolph. The brother of the poet. See p. 27. 

I. T. A. M. Probably this is Jerameel Terrent, M.A., who was a 

graduate of Westminster School and of Christ Church, Oxford. 

He was well known as a tutor at Oxford and later became rector 

of Clewer, Berkshire. 

Tho. Terrent. He also was a graduate of Westminster School and 
of Christ Church, and served as curate of Bensington. He 
contributed to a number of collections of Oxford poems. 

R. Bride-oake. Ralph Brideoake (1613-1678), a graduate of Brase- 
nose College, Oxford. In 1634 he was made Prochaplain of New 
College, and was afterward Bishop of Chichester and Master 
of the Manchester Free Grammar School. 

Ed. Gayton. Edmund Gaytoun or Gayton, one of the "Sons of 
Ben." He was a fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, and, 
according to Wood, was the author of a number of works "some 
good, others most vain and trashy things." 

G. W. Joan. Apparently George Wilde (1610-1665), a graduate of 
St. John's College, Oxford, where he became a fellow in 163 1 ; 
in 1635 he was incorporated at Cambridge. He was considered 
a wit in his younger days, and it was his play which was acted 
before the royal party in the College Hall in 1636. He was 
chaplain to Archbishop Laud, and after the Restoration became 
Bishop of Derry. 

los. Howe. Josias Howe, a graduate and fellow of Trinity College, 
Oxford. Wood says that he has "several copies of verses that 
are extant in various books which shew him to have been a good 
poet." 

Owen Feltham. (i6o2?-i668), best known for his Resolves, a series 
of moral essays. See p. 359. 

R. Gostelow. Richard Gostelow, who was graduated B.A. from 
Corpus Christi, Oxford, in 163 1 (as Gorstelow) and M.A. in 1634. 

355 



3S6 NOTES 

When he in Cambridge Schooles did moderate. 

The Moderator was the person chosen to preside over the 
"disputations" or exercises in the University Schools required 
of all candidates for degrees. 

Ric. West. This Richard West was not, according to our present 
terminology, the "brother-in-law" of the poet; he was the son of 
Randolph's step-mother and her first husband, Thomas West, of 
Cotton End. See p. 5. 



NOTES ON THE POEMS 

p. 73. In Anguem, qui Lycorin dormientem amplexus est. 

In the original editions this poem is preceded by a Latin 
version which bears this title, while the English one is headed 
simply Englished thus Hapa^paari.Kws. 

p. 78, /. 13. A third speaks raptures, and hath gaind a wit 
By praising Calia, 
This is apparently a reference to the poems of Carew, which 
were not, however, published until 1640. 

p. 84. A GRATULATORY TO M^ BeN JoHNSON. 

See the story of Randolph's "adoption" given in the intro- 
duction, p. 12, and his own account given on p. 84. Baker 
tells us {Biog. Dram. 2, 590) that Jonson "admitted him as one 
of his adopted Sons in the Muses, and held him in equal Esteem 
with the ingenious Mr. Cartwright." 

p. 86 /. 57. To cure thy Palsie; 

Jonson, according to his own statement, was first stricken 
with the palsy in the year 1628. 

In Lesbiam, & Histrionem. 
p. 87, /. 12. more then a treble share. 

At this time the actors did not have regular salaries, but each 
received, in accordance with his abilities, a certain proportion 
of the profits. 

p. 87, //. 25-26. can to Brackly goe. 

To Lincolne Race, and to New-Market too; 
Newmarket in Suffolk has long been famous for its horse- 
races; formerly they were held also at Brackley in Northamp- 



NOTES 357 

tonshlre. "Lincoln Race" is perhaps that held at Stamford in 
Lincolnshire. 

p. 87, /. 34. Maw, Gleeke and Primero. 

Card games popular at about this period. 

p. 88, /. 52. Mezentius bloody cruelty. 

This is described by Vergil, j/Eneid, VIII, 485. 

p. 97. An Elegie upon the Lady Venetia Digby. 

Lady Digby was the wife of Sir Kenelm Digby, and the 
daughter of Sir Edward Stanley. She died suddenly on May i, 
1633, which fixes fairly closely the date of the composition of 
this poem. 

p. 99. An Epitaph upon M" I. T. 

Mistress I. T. was in all probability the wife of the I. T., A.M., 
who was the author of one of the prefatory poems. The latter 
person seems to have been Jerameel Terrent (see p. 355). 

p. 102. An Epitaph upon his honour'd friend M"" Warre. 

This is apparently the "much lamented Mr. J. Warr, " re- 
ferred to also as "John Weare Councellour" by Herrick in his 
Hesperides. He took his B.A. degree from Exeter College, Oxford, 
in 1621-22, and his M.A. in 1624. In 1627 he was a student of 
Gray's Inn, being registered as the son and heire of Edward 
Warre, of Chipley in Somerset, Esq., but I find no record of him 
after that date. Accounts differ as to his age, but he was born 
some time between 1601 and 1605. 

p. 103. Vpon the losse of his little finger. 

The circumstances attending the composition of this poem 
are given in the Introduction, p. 18. In MS. Malone 14, in the 
Bodleian, there is a reply to this by some unknown author who 
quotes the expression "pulchrum est monstrari digito," which 
was used by Randolph in his Oratio Pravaricatoria. As this 
speech was delivered at the Cambridge Commencement in June, 
1632, it is probable that the incident took place after that time. 

In MS. Ashmole 38 there is a poem headed "Mr. Thomas 
Randall the Poett, his finger being cut of by a Riotous Gentle- 
man, his frinde Mr William Hemminge made this Elegie on the 
same." This describes, in mock heroic style, the burial of the 
finger, which was attended by all the chief poets of the time. 



3S8 NOTES 

p. 104. On the Passion of Christ. 

In MS. Egerton 2725, which contains this poem, it is preceded 
by the following Latin version. 

In diem passionis. 

Quid templum abscindit? quo luxque diesque recessit? 
An potuit tenebras totus Apollo habi? 

Astrologi dubitateS fides ait; Haud ita mirum 
Natura malo si sit, moriente'^ Deo. 

In A collection of Select Epigrams, published in 1757 by John 
Hackett, there is another version of this poem, which may pos- 
sibly be the original one, but is more probably not authentic 
(Epigram clxii). 

The Temple's Veil is rent, the Day is gone; 

A sudden gen'ral Darkness hides the Sun: 

Why Nature thus shou'd deviate from her Laws, 

Philosophers amaz'd explore the Cause. 

Give o'er weak Men; in vain your Skill ye try; 

Nature must needs be sick, when God can die. 

p. 104. Necessary Observations. 

These "Observations" were most probably school exercises 
of the young poet. See p. 8. 

p. 113. A Platonick Elegie. 

This poem belongs, apparently, to the last year of Randolph's 
life. James Howell, writing on June 3, 1634, says: "The court 
affords little news at present, but that there is a love called 
platonic love, which much sways there of late . . . This love 
sets the wits of the town on work; and they say there will be 
a masque shortly of it." 

p. 115. An Apologie for his false Prediction, etc. 

This "Aunt Lane" was some relative of Randolph's step- 
mother, probably the wife of Sir Richard Lane. See p. 5. 

MdvTK fipwTToj 6j rU eiKcifei KaXcos. 

This saying (in the form Mdirts 5' apitrpos 6<rTts eUk^ei /caXws) 
is credited by Plutarch to Euripides, but it is not in any of 
his extant works. 

p. 115, /. 6. Doctor Lambe. 

Dr. John Lambe, who was accused of practicing the Black 
Art, was beaten to death by a London street mob in June, 1628. 



NOTES 359 

p. 115, /. 8. Madam D avers 

Eleanor Touchet, wife of Sir John Davies, was the author of 
several fanatical books on prophecy. She gained notice through 
being popularly supposed to have predicted the death of William 
Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, in 1630. 

p. 116, /. 35. Albumazar 

The Arabic astrologer Abu-Maaschar (805-885) 
p. 116, /. 36. Erra-Pater 

"A Jew, born in Jewry, Doctor of Astronomy and Physick," 
according to the title-page of his book of prophecy. The name 
was sometimes applied to William Lilly, the astrologer, 
p. 116, /. 38. Shepheards Calender. 

For this work see the note on p. 364. 
p. 117, /. 55. Levinus 

Lovinus Lemnius, a Dutch physician of the Sixteenth Century 
the author of a number of books. He was a native of Zierikse 
on the island of Schouwen in Zeeland. 

p. 119. An Epithalamium to M"" F. H. 

The references in this poem to Ninus (the Nene), and Weston 
make it clear that the parties concerned lived in the neighbor- 
hood of Northampton. At this time there were Wards living at 
Little Houghton, the home of Randolph's father, and there were 
Harveys at Weston Favell not far away. (See the 1619 Visi- 
tation of Northamptonshire, pp. 151 & 99.) In this latter family 
there were several Francis Harveys, and it is very probably 
one of these, the father of the bride, who is the " F.H." and the 
"Frank" addressed here. It is interesting, though not par- 
ticularly significant, that Mary Harvey of this family married 
Lewis Atterbury of Great Houghton, and that the poet's brother 
William afterwards married their daughter. 

p. 121, /. 87. he that awed the seas, 

"Captain" (John?) Ward, who flourished 1601-1615, was a 
notorious pirate. 

p. 123. To M'' Feltham on his booke of Resolves. 

These Resolves, a series of moral essays, appeared first in 
1620 (?), and a Seconde Centurie in 1628. These two parts went 
through a number of editions, but in none of them that I have 
seen are Randolph's verses printed. 



360 NOTES 

p. 124, /. 30. So Lesbians by their zvorke their rules doe frame, 

Aristotle {Nic. Eth. 5, 10) says, "Of a Lesbian building the 
rule is leaden, since the rule is bent conformable to the figure of 
the stone, and does not remain the same." 

p. 128. In Natalem Augustissimi Principis Caroli. 

In the original editions this poem is preceded by four lines in 
Latin of which this is but a paraphrase. 

On May 13, 1629, Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I, gave 

birth prematurely to her first child, a boy, who died in two 

hours. Her next child, afterwards Charles II, was born on May 

29, 1630. 

p. 129. An Ode to M^ Anthony Stafford to hasten him into the 

COUNTRY. 

Anthony Stafford (1587-1645), "descended from those of 
that name living in Blatherwyck," was a good scholar, "well 
read in antient history, poets and other authors," and was also 
the author of a number of books. 

p. 129, /. 16. Punie of the Innes of Court. 

A recently admitted student or freshman at the law schools. 
p. 131, /. 76. noble Barkley 

George Berkeley, eighth Baron Berkeley (1601-1658), to 
whom Stafford dedicated his Guide of Honour. 
p. 132. An answer to M'' Ben Iohnson's Ode, etc. 

On Jan. 19, 1628-9, Jonson's play The New Inne was acted at 
the Blackfriars Theater and was a hopeless failure. Two years 
later Jonson printed it together with his Ode to Himself, which 
had apparently been written soon after the failure. (See Ten- 
nant's edition of the New Inne.) The Ode inspired a number 
of answers besides this one of Randolph's. 

In the Crewe of Kind London Gossips, 1663, we find "Ben 
Johnson's Discontented Soliliqui upon the sinister censure of 
his play, called the New Inn, Translated into Latin, and Answered 
Verse for Verse by Thomas Randall," and the same thing occurs 
in several of the MSS. in which this poem appears. 

p. 133, /. 34. what Broome swept from thee. 

Tennant has shown that Jonson's original version probably 
read "Brome's sweepings," and that this was changed before 
publication. Brome, who had been Jonson's servant, produced 
his Love-sick Maid three weeks after the failure of the Newe Inne, 
and it proved a great success. 



NOTES 361 

p. 133, /. 49. thf Palsie 

See note on p. 356. 

p. 140. To THE VeRTUOUS AND NOBLE LaDY, THE LaDY CoTTON. 

This poem was first printed in the Parentalia (see Bibliog- 
raphy, Sec. 3.) in 1635, ^""^ ^^s afterwards included in the 
collected editions of the poems. 

Lady Cotton, the wife of Sir Rowland Cotton, was Jocosa, 
daughter and coheiress of Richard Welsh (or Walsh) of Shal- 
desley in the county of Warwick (1623 Visitation of Shropshire, 
p. 155). Kottas thinks that the poem is addressed to the wife of 
Sir Robert Cotton. 

p. 140. An Elegie on the death of . . . Sir Rowland Cotton, 
etc. 

First printed in the Parentalia in 1635. Sir Rowland was 
Sheriff of Shropshire in 1617, according to Fuller, which identi- 
fies him as the Rowland Cotton of Alkington, who appears in 
the 1623 Shropshire Visitation (p. 155). The date of his 
death is not given, but it appears from Wm. Strode's poem in 
the Parentalia that it took place after the death of Sir Robert, 
that is after 163 1; it was probably not long before the publica- 
tion of the Parentalia. 

Fuller says of Sir Rowland, "Incredible are the most true 
relations, which many eye-witnesses, still alive, do make of the 
valour and Activity of this most accomplished Knight. So 
strong as if he had been nothing but bones: so nimble as if he 
had been nothing but sinewes." 

p. 141, /. 15. Roy all Henry, 

Henry Frederick (1594-1612), Prince of Wales, oldest son of 
James I. 

p. 144. AusoNii Epigram 38. 

In all the editions of Ausonius which I have seen this epigram 
is No. 39. 

p. 145. Vpon the report of the King of Swedens Death. 

Gustavus Adolphus was slain in the battle of Lutzen on 
Nov. 6, 1632. James Howell writes to his brother in the follow- 
ing month: "One Jerbire, who says that he was at the very 
action brought the first news to this town, and every corner 
rings of it; yet such is the extravagance of some, that they will 
lay wagers he is not yet dead, and the Exchange is full of such 
people." 



362 NOTES 

p. 146, /. 14. a great and a more holy warre 

One of Gustavus's reasons for attempting to "pull down" 
the Holy Roman Empire was that he wished to secure relief 
for his fellow-Protestants who were oppressed by it. 

p. 147. On S'' Robert Cotton, the Antiquary. 

This is Sir Robert Bruce Cotton, whose Hbary at Cotton 
House was a meeting-place for all the scholars of the coun- 
try. Ben Jonson was intimate with him and often visited him. 
Cotton died on May 6, 163 1. 

p. 149. 'H 'Eu</)i;oOs r) irolrjais ii ftcwiKod: Arist. 

Aristotle {Poetics, Chap. 17) says: Si6 tiipvods 17 iroirjTiK^ iariv 
^ fiaviKov. 

p. 150. In Corydonem & Corinnam. 

In the original editions this title is prefixed to the Latin ver- 
sion which precedes these lines; the English verses are headed 
simply Paraphras'd. 

p. 152. An Eclogue occasion'd by two Doctors disputing upon 

PREDESTINATION. 

In the British Museum there is a manuscript volume (Harl. 
3357) which contains, among metrical translations of the Psalms, 
divine meditations, etc., a version of this poem; it is there 
credited to "T. Randolph gent." It differs considerably from the 
version given in the printed editions of Randolph, the speakers 
being Thyrsis, Corydon, Thenot, and Colin Clout. If the date 
1633, given in the manuscript, be correct, we must assume that 
we have here an earlier version which Randolph afterwards 
revised, for the whole book is too carefully copied for us to sup- 
pose the differences due to pure carelessness. 

In the front of the book is the following inscription: "Hen- 
narietta Holies her book given her by her father John Holies, 
the last Duke of that name. She married the late Edw. Harley, 
Ld Oxford, son of Robert Harley first Ld of Oxford of that 
family." 

p. 153, //. 37-38. In MS. Harl. 3357 these two Hnes read: 

The. 
Doaturd you fowle on Pans Omniscience fall. 

Col. 
Dunce, you his goodness into question call: 



NOTES 363 

p. 156. An Eclogue to M*" Iohnson. 

In this poem it seems tolerably certain that Tityrus is in- 
tended to represent Jonson, while Damon stands for Randolph 
himself. 

p. 162, /. 168. Call'd thence to keep the flock of Corydon. 

This is the passage upon which Fleay bases his conjecture that 
Randolph acted as assistant to the manager of the company 
playing at the Salisbury Court Theater under the name of 
"Prince Charles' Men." 

p. 163, /. 176. J desolation frights the Muses there! 

It seems most natural to refer this to the plague which caused 
the closing of the university from April to November, 1630, 
during which time Randolph was almost certainly in London. 
In this case, however, Fleay's conjecture cannot be correct, for 
Prince Charles' Men did not come to Salisbury Court until 
January, 1632. 

p. 170. Vpon a very deformed Gentlewoman. 

In MS. Malone 21 this is credited to "Dr. Lewis," but the 
evidence in Randolph's favor is overwhelming. 

p. 170, //. 19, 20. Gammut, Ela. 

Gammut was the lowest tone in the mediaeval system as Ela 
was the highest. 

p. 171, /. 41. What but a Panther 
See Pliny, Nat. Hist., 8, 23. 
The milk-maids Epithalamium. 

p. 172, /. 6. When I shall deal my Rosemary. 

Rosemary was supposed to strengthen the memory and so 
was used at both funerals and weddings. 

p. 174. An Eclogue on the noble Assemblies revived on 
CoTSWOLD Hills. 

These verses appeared first in the Annalia Dubrensia (see 
bibliography. Sec. 3, No. 7), which was licensed on Jan. 11, 
1636. The poems in this volume, all dealing with Dover and the 
Cotswold Games, were by various poets and must have been 
written at different times, as several of the authors were dead 
when the volume appeared. 



364 NOTES 

The collection has been reprinted by Grosart in Occasional 
Issues, and there is a discussion of it in Anglia Vol. 12. For the 
purposes of collation I have used the copy in the British Museum 
which bears the signature of Dover himself. 

According to Wood {Athena 4, 222), the games were begun 
by Dover and by him continued for forty years, being held at 
a certain time each year on Cotswold Hills in Gloucestershire. 
They were finally abolished by the Puritans. The character of 
the sports held there is made clear from this poem of Randolph's. 

p. 176, /. 54. Barley-break, the ready way to Hell. 

In the game of Barley-break the middle inclosure was called 
"Hell." 

p. 176, /. 70. Did skirmish out a fight arm'd but with reeds; 

The "cane game," or jousting with hollow canes instead of 
lances was a fairly common mode of amusement; it is said to 
have originated at Messina when Richard I was on his way to 
the Holy Land. 

p. 181, /. 182. Shepheards Calendar 

This work is a translation of the French Le compost et Kalen- 
drier des Bergers, a work very popular in the Sixteenth Century; 
most of the editions contained, among other things, a chapter on 
astrology and a " Kalender with the figures of euery Saint that 
is hallowed in the yeare." 

p. 185. Vpon Love fondly Refus'd for Conscience sake. 

Samuel Austin, in his Epistle to the Reader prefixed to his 
Panegyric [[16613, declares that he intends to write "The 
Authors answer to Mr. Randolphs poem styled. Love fondly 
refused for Conscience Sake ^c," but nothing further is known of 
this answer. 

POEMS ADDED IN THE 1640 EDITION. 
On Importunate Dunnes. 

p. 191, //. 43-44. And 'tis a second charge to me, poor man 
To make the new born Babe a Christian. 

At the time of the christening it was the custom to give an 
entertainment at which the guests not only ate all they wished, 
but from which they carried away in their pockets as much as 
they pleased; at the time of the churching it was customary to 
give another large entertainment. 



NOTES 365 

p. 193. /. 70. Use and Doctrine 

According to GifFord it was the custom for the Puritan 
preachers to divide their sermons into "doctrine" and "use," 
meaning by the former term the subject under explanation, and 
by the latter the practical inference to be derived from it. 

p. 194, /. 96. Trinity Lecture 

These lectures were given on Sunday afternoons in Trinity 
Church, Cambridge, by one of the university faculty appointed 
for that purpose. They were very popular with the towns- 
people, and made such an appeal to the Puritans, that Laud 
attempted to abolish them in 1630, but without success. 

A Character. 

p. 195, /. 28. Middletons Mine 

In 1617 Sir Hugh Myddleton or Middleton leased some aban- 
doned lead and silver mines in the Plynlimmon district of Wales, 
and after clearing them of water made a large sum of money by 
working them. 

p. 195, /. 30. Currantoes 

A kind of weekly newspaper notorious for its inaccuracy. 
p. 19s, /. 32. Gallobelgicus 

Mercurius Gallobelgicus, a kind of historical chronicle pub- 
lished at Cologne. One of the editions in the British Museum 
has as a sub-title Rerum in Gallia et Belgio . . . ah anno 1588 {usq. 
ad nundinas autumnales anni j6jo) gesiarum. 

p. 196, //. 41-42. Celarent, Ferio, Baralypton 

Terms used by the Schoolmen to designate various forms of 
syllogisms. 

p. 196. On the losse of his Finger. 
See the note on p. 357. 

p. 197. A PARANETICON TO ... M. EnDYMION PoRTER. 

Endymion Porter (1587-1649) was Groom of the Bed-Chara- 
ber to Prince Charles and also held various public offices. He 
wrote poetry himself and was the friend and patron of poets. 

p. 197, /. II. The bright soul that's fled. 

Apparently a reference to the death of Prince Henry which 
occurred in 1612. 



366 NOTES 

p. 200. On six Maids bathing themselves in a River. 

In the Scattergood MS., formerly in the Huth collection, this 
poem is headed, "On 6 Cambridge Maids bathing themselves by 
Queen's Coll." and the date is given as June 15, 1629. From 
this manuscript Hazlitt has added two lines not found in the 
printed copies, and I have followed him in this (//. 35-36). 

p. 200, /. 8. Clcelia 

Cloelia was a Roman virgin who was given as a hostage to 
Porsena; with nine of her companions she escaped and, pursued 
by the Etruscans, swam across the Tiber to safety. 

Livy, 2, 13. 

p. 201, /. 48. Tiberius eye 

Suetonius tells us that the eyes of Tiberius, which were largo 
had a wonderful faculty for seeing in the night-time and in the 
dark. Life of Tiberius, 68. 

p. 205. To M. I. S. ON HIS Gratefull Servant. 

These lines were prefixed to the 1637 edition of Shirley's 
Gratefull Servant, and were reprinted in the 1640 edition of 
Randolph's Poems. 



POEMS NOT IN ANY OF THE COLLECTED EDITIONS. 

p. 209. The Towns-mens Petition of Cambridge. 

Although this poem is not in any of the early editions of 
Randolph's collected works and the earliest ascription of it to 
him is in 1662, there can be little doubt of its authenticity. Not 
only is it quite in his style but it also deals with an event which 
occurred while he was at Cambridge. 

On Sept. I, 1629, John Shirwood, who was at that time mayor 
of the town of Cambridge, was discommoned by the University 
for interfering with the punishment of three chandlers whom the 
University had found guilty of selling candles to the students 
at a price above that fixed by its own officers.^ Shirwood made 
three different trips to London to put the townsmen's side of the 
case before the king,'^ complaining, as we learn from the answer 
of the University^ to his plea that he had been used "as no 

(i) Baker MS. 25, 259. Quoted by Cooper, Annals 8, 285. 

(2) Accounts of the Treasurers of the Town, s & 6 Car. I. Quoted by Cooper, 
Annals 3, 320. 

(3) Domestic papers, Charles I, Dec. 4, 1629. Cooper mentions another answer 
of the University (dated Oct. 6, 1629) which is now in the Downing College Library. 



NOTES 367 

mayor was ever used before." The king, by an Order of Council 
dated Dec. 4, ordered the townsmen to pay the fines imposed 
upon them by the University, and to "make public confession 
in the V. Chan^. court of their fault in breaking the said rates & 
prices so set, & refusing to pay the fines assessed upon them, & 
questioning the Priviliges of the University." ^ I think it quite 
clear that the poem alludes to this dispute and to the humilia- 
tion of the townspeople which resulted. 

213, /. 131. They'l have the Town made a City, 

There had been considerable agitation to this effect not long 
before this time. 

. 213. On the Fall of the Mitre Tavern in Cambridge. 

This poem likewise is not in the collected editions, yet there 
is little doubt of its authenticity. Three early commonplace 
books which I have seen (MSS. Rawl. 62, d 108, and d 1092) all 
credit it to Randolph; Dr. Bliss had a fourth in his own collec- 
tion, and Hazlitt mentions still another in the Huth Library. 
In the copies which I have seen the division into stanzas is in 
each case indicated, so that in this matter I have departed from 
the printed text. 

The Mitre Tavern, which stood on the south end of the site 
now occupied by the screen of King's College, fell down in 1633, 
or thereabouts; it was subsequently rebuilt. 

214, /. 5. The dismal fire of London- Bridge 

During the night of the 13th of February, 1632-33, forty- 
three of the houses on the Bridge were consumed by a fire which 
broke out at about eleven o'clock and raged until eight in the 
morning. 

214, /. 20. Pembrook's Cardinals Cap. 

The tavern called the Cardinal's Cap, stood nearly opposite 
Pembroke Hall, occupying a portion of the site upon which the 
Pitt Press has since been erected. 

214, /. 24. the Crown. 

The Crown was another Cambridge tavern of the period, as 
were the Rose, Falcon and Dolphin mentioned below. 

215, /. 37. Eaton-conjurers 

Until comparatively recently. King's College was what is 
known as a "close college" for Eton; that is, all of the fellow- 
ships, scholarships, etc., were open only to graduates of that 
school, and most of the students in the college were Eton men. 

(l) Quoted by Dyer, Priviliges I, 142. 



368 NOTES 

p. 216. Annagram. Virtue alone thy Blisse. 

The ascription of this poem, and the two which follow, to 
Randolph rests, in each case, upon the authority of a single manu- 
script. This is scanty evidence upon which to attribute any 
work to a given author, yet in both subject matter and style 
they so closely resemble the undisputed work of Randolph (the 
third not quite so closely as the other two) that in the absence 
of any other claimant for them I think that they should be 
credited to him. 

p. 219. Epigram. 

This is from a manuscript which I have not seen and I have 
been forced to follow Hazlitt's transcription of it, which is prob- 
ably only approximately correct. Considerable doubt is cast 
upon the authenticity of this poem by the fact that the other 
epigram printed by Hazlitt from the same manuscript is by Ben 
Jonson. In the absence of definite evidence to the contrary, 
however, I have thought it best to include this among the poems 
of Randolph. 

p. 219 [To Richard Weston.] 

In the British Museum copy where this poem is found it is 
preceded by the following Latin verses: 
vir durus ac honestus 
Richardus Westonus 
vir Durus ac Comus 

Te licet Durum vocal ac honestum 
nominis felix annagramma vestri 
sis tamen quaeso mihi miti durus 

valde et honestus. 
I have been unable to identify the particular Richard Weston 
to whom the poem is addressed. 

p. 219. A LETTER TO HIS MiSTRESSE. 

While this poem may not be by Randolph (although I myself 
believe that it is) it is certain that the scribe who compiled the 
volume thought it his. The names Randolph and Randall were 
almost interchangeable at this period; the poet himself was 
often called Randall, while his brother Robert took his B.A. 
as Randolph but his M.A. as Randall. 

p. 220. The Character of a Perfect Woman. 

The ascription of this poem to "T.R." in the midst of a group 
of Randolph's poems shows that the scribe believed it his, and 



NOTES 369 

merely used this form of abbreviation, as in other cases we 
find "T. Rand:" etc., in places where the name has already 
been given in full. I think that the poem shows clear traces of 
Randolph's hand, although its authenticity is by no means 
beyond question. The text as it stands is very corrupt; in a 
number of cases the real meaning is quite obvious but I have 
preferred to reproduce the poem exactly as it stands in the 
manuscript, giving in the foot-notes such conjectural emend- 
ations as to my mind admit of no question. In case of doubt I 
have preferred to let each reader settle the question for himself. 

p. 224. Ad Amicam. 

The external evidence for attributing this poem to Randolph 
is slight indeed, yet it is so very much in his style that in the 
absence of any other claimant I feel justified in crediting it to 
him. It is found in MS. Tanner 465, where it is credited to 
"T. R." This MS. contains but one other poem by Randolph, 
and that is in another part of the volume, yet Randolph was 
undoubtedly the best known T. R. of the period and it seems 
more than likely that he is the person meant; the Bodleian cata- 
logue ascribes it to him without hesitation. 
Another version (unsigned) of this poem is written in the 

back of the volume of Various Poems numbered ^122^ Jn the 

I — 5 
British Museum. In 1874 Furnivall reprinted this for the Bal- 
lad Society among Love Poems and Humourous Ones. 

p. 224. [On the Book fish.] 

"It must not be forgotten, how during my abode in Cam- 
bridge on Mid-summer Eve, 1626, a Book was found in the belly 
of a Cod (brought into the Market to be sold) containing therein 
three Treatises, whereof the first and largest was entituled, A 
Preparation to the Crosse. It was wrapped about with Canvass, 
and probably that voracious Fish plundered both out of the 
pocket of some Ship-wracked Seaman. The Wits of the Univer- 
sity made themselves merry thereat, one making a long copy of 
Verses thereon, whereof this Dystick I remember 

* Tho. * // Fishes," etc. 

Randolph. Fuller Worthies, 1662. p. 359, under 

Richard Tracey of Gloucestershire. 

p. 224. On M'' parson Organist of Westminster Abbye. 

This is the epitaph placed upon Parsons' tomb in the cloisters 
of Westminster Abbey; its ascription to Randolph apparently 
rests solely upon the authority of MS. Ashmole 38, which is not 



370 NOTES 

always accurate in its attributions. The claim of Camden to 
it, which has been advanced, rests upon no ground whatever, 
since he expressly states that he is quoting it from some "modern 
wit." It was probably written soon after the death of Parsons, 
which occurred early in 1623; at this time Randolph was still 
at Westminster School. 

p. 225. [Epitaph on William Lawrence.] 

"Dr. Busby, schoolmaster of Westminster, was Tom Ran- 
dolph's school-fellow and coetanean, and sayth that he made 
these verses — 'Tis his vaine: — " 

Aubrey, Life of Randolph. 
This epitaph was placed over the tomb of Lawrence, which is 
in the North walk of the cloisters at Westminster Abbey. Law- 
rence died on Dec. 28, 1621. 

p. 225. Randolph his answer to some merry companion. 

Henry Oxinden of Barham gives the following in his common- 
place-book, 1647 (I quote Hazlitt's transcription): "Several 
wits being a drinking together, hearing that Randolph the poet 
was in the house, being desirous to make sport with him, sent 
for him into their company. Randolph came to them: they in 
their discourse propounded who was the best poet, so one said 
Virgil, another Horace, another Ovid, &c. and gave their reasons. 
Randolph, being demanded his opinion, said he thought the 
sweet singer of Israel the best. They asked him why? He said 
because — 

'From all the ills,'" etc. 

p. 225. [Randolph's answer to the "Sons of Ben. "3 

For Winstanley's account of the circumstances attending the 
production of this poem see the introduction, p. 13. 

p. 226. PlLSLUDIUM. 

I have compared the indorsement on the MS. with other 
papers which are known to be by Clarendon, and the handwriting 
seems to be the same. Clarendon was a friend of Jonson's, and 
was in London at the time Randolph was there, so that it is 
more than likely that they knew each other, but of this there is 
no proof. (The Edward Hide whose verses were prefixed to the 
Jealous Lovers is almost certainly the one who entered Trinity 
College from Westminster in 1625.) If Clarendon's note be cor- 
rect I can see but two possible explanations of it. One is that 
Randolph wrote the prologue for some revival of Fletcher's PFo- 
man Hater (called also the Hungry Courtier in the 1649 edition) 



NOTES 371 

of which we have no record. It is quite within the bounds of 
possibiUty that some such revival took place before Randolph's 
death, and that the secondary title was given it at this time, 
but the prologue seems hardly appropriate to this play. 

The more likely explanation is that it was written by some one 
else for a performance of one of Randolph's plays,^ given in all 
probability subsequent to the closing of the theaters. (The lean 
times referred to may, of course, be merely one of the times when 
the theaters were closed because of the plague.) In that case the 
name "Hungry Courtier" was chosen simply for its appropriate- 
ness, without regard to any play actually in existence. The 
language of this prologue sounds much more like a burlesque of 
Randolph's style than like his own serious work. 

231. [The City of London.^ 

The fact that the name "Randall" was evidently added in 
the margin at some time after the rest of the page was written 
is in itself suspicious; this taken in conjunction with the fact 
that in none of the poems unquestionably his does Randolph 
use a metre prevailingly dactylic makes me quite certain that 
the poem is not by him. The events referred to in the poem would 
also seem to point to a date later than Randolph's death. Since, 
however, I cannot assign it to any other author I have thought 
it better to include it here among the doubtful poems. 



NOTES ON THE AMYNTAS. 

The Latin quotation on the title-page is from Virgil, Eclogue 
VI, //. 4-5. 

ACT I. 
Sc. ii, //. 47-48. Other Nymphs 

(p. 243) Have their varietie of loves, for every gown. 
Probably an echo of Guarini's 

"Corisca, mi dicea, si vuole appunto 
Far degli amanti quel che della vesti: 
Molti averne, un goderne, e cangiar spesso;" 

Pastor Fido, I, iii. 
Sc. v, /. 103. Ompha 

(P- 255) 

A word apparently coined by Randolph from the Greek, 
oij.4»i, a divine voice or prophecy; he may also have associated 
with it the Delphic 6n^a\6s. 

(i) Compare especially with this prologue the Jealous Lovers, III, iv v, & and 
the Hey for Honesty, IV, i. 



372 NOTES 

ACT II. 

Sc. iii, /. 34. copple crowne 
(p. 266) 

A crest or tuft of feathers on a bird's head. 
/. 35. they' I — ly. 

An allusion to the lapwing's wily methods of drawing a 
stranger away from its nest. 
Sc. vi, /. 28. Spanish needles. 
(p. 278) 

At this period the best needles still were, as they long had 
been, imported from Spain. 
/. 36. so, ho, ho. 

"So ho" was the call used to direct the dogs when they were 
hunting the hare. 

ACT III. 

Sc. i, /. 62. Pelian speare 
(p. 286) 

Compare this with the "Pelias hasta" of Ovid, the spear of 
Achilles cut on Mount Pelion. 
Sc. ii, /. 75. LylihcBan mountaines 
(p. 290) 

Lilybaeum, the modern Marsala, is a town in the western 
part of Sicily. 
Sc. iii, //. 26-41. Start unkennel spring 

Amyntas uses of the oracle the terms applied to various kinds 
of game by the hunters; they spoke of "starting" a hare, "un- 
kennelling" a fox, and "springing" a bird. 
Sc. V, /. 70. Ti-ti-ta-tie 

(P- 30O 

These same words are used by the pseudo-fairies in the Al- 
chemist when they impose upon Dapper: GifFord supposes them 
to be merely a hint to the performers to use some strange and 
inarticulate jargon. 

ACT IV. 

Sc. i, /. 18. Carduus Benedictus 

(p. 306) 

The plant known as the Blessed Thistle, which Dodoens in 
his Herbal says "is given with great profite against the pesti- 
lence"; Dragon water was another popular remedy. 



NOTES 373 

Sc. viii, //. 33-34. j^nd by the womb that bare thee, by the breasts 
(p. 322) Of thy dead mother, Lalage 

These lines are taken over almost verbatim from the Jealous 
Lovers, II, ix. 

Sc. ix, /. 38. hearb Solstitial 

(P- 327) 

This is from Plautus (Pseudolus i, I, 36-37) 
"Quasi solstitialis herba paulisper fui: 
Repente exortus sum, repentino occidi." 
but what plant he means by it is unknown. 



ACT V. 

Sc. iv, /. 2. bear the bell away 

(P- 334) 

To be successful over, to take precedence of. It is supposed 
that this meaning of the expression arose from the custom of 
giving little golden bells as prizes in the horse-races. 



APPENDIX 

Variations, too unimportant for mention in the foot-notes, 
between the 1638 text of the Amyntas and that given in this 
volume. 

Act I 

Sc. i. From /. 46 to the end of the scene the capital D's in the itali- 
cized words are in roman type. 
Sc. ii. From /. 7 to /. 22 the L's and in /. 3 1 the D's in italicized words 

are roman. 
Sc. iii. From /. 81 to the end of the scene (except in //. 91 & 94), 

the l's, when standing alone, are italic. 
Sc. iv. In this scene all the l's are italic, and from /. 4 to the end all 

the D's in italicized words are roman. 
Sc. V. In //. 2 to 10, and 36 to 75 the l's are italic; in //. 6, 9, 16, 

and 28 the D's, and in //. 50, 63, 68, 73, 75, 83, and 86 the L's, 

in italicized words are roman. 
Sc. vi. In /. 26, and /. 44 to the end of the scene the l's are italic; 

in I. 14 the small i in pity is also italic. In //. 12, 15, 32, and /. 

37 to the end the L's, and in //. 1-19, 38-50, and 60 to the end 

the D's are roman in italicized words. 

Act II 

Sc. ii. /. 47, Corymbus 

Sc. iii. /. 39, ditto 

Sc. iv. In //. 34, 35, and 38 the l's are italic, and in //. 7 and 9, and 

60 to 94 the V's in italicized words are roman. 
Sc. V. In //. 16-29 the l's are italic; from the beginning to /. 31 the 

A's in italicized words are roman. 
Sc. vi. In /. 17 the I is italic; from /. 40 to the end the D's in 

italicized words are roman. 
Sc. vii. Throughout the scene the D's, and from /. 32 to the end the 

A's, in italicized words, are roman; in /. 56 the I of In is italic. 

Act III 

Sc. i. All the l's as far as /. 56 are italic; throughout the scene the 
D's, and as far as /. 43 the A's (except in /. 36), in the italicized 
words, are roman. 

375 



376 APPENDIX 

Sc. ii. In italicized words the D's and L's as far as /. 57 are roman, 
as are the A's in //. 45 and 59. The I in /. 58 is itaUc. 

Sc. iii. The l's in //. 19-57 (except /. 44), 77, 111-124 and 167 to the 
end of the scene are italic; so also is the first y in /. 100. In 
//. 58, 59, 86, and 87 the L's are roman, as is the C in the margin 
opposite /. 46. 

Sc. iv. In //. 1-29 the l's are italic. 

Act IV 

Sc. ii. The l's in //. 3, 7, and li (the first) are italic; the E in /. 25 

is roman. 
Sc. iii. The l's in //. 15, 18 and 19 are italic. 
Sc. V. The l's from /. 41 to the end of the scene (except /. 54) are 

italic; the D's in //. 25-50, 62, and 68-73, ^nd the L in /. 56, 

are roman. 
Sc. vi. The l's in //. 11, 25 (the second), 48, and 57 are italic; the 

D's from /. i to the end of the scene, and the A's in //. 44 and 

62 are roman in the italicized words. 
Sc. vii. The l's in //. 3 and 6 are italic; the A's in //. 4 and 6 are 

roman. 
Sc. ix. The D in /. 19 is roman, as are the j's in /. 32. 

Act V 
Sc. ii. The I in /. 28 is italic. 
Sc. V. The C's in //. 16 and 18 are roman. 

Sc. vi. The l's in the italicized words in //. *2, 30, 47, 51, 64, and 69 
are roman. 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

PAGE 

A freind is gold; if true heele never leave thee, lOJ 

Ah wretch in thy Corinna's love unblest! 150 

Although your Lordshipps happy annagram 219 

Apelles curious eye must gaze upon 220 

Are then the Sibils dead? what is become IIS 

Arise, come forth, but never to return 202 

Arithmetique nine digits, and no more . 103 

As once in blacke I disrespected walk't 218 

Beauty it selfe lyes here, in whom alone, 98 

Behold these woods, and mark my Sweet 163 

Ben doe not leave the stage 132 

Be well advis'd, and wary counsell make, 105 

Blisse court thee sweetest soule, and fall soe thick 217 

Come spurre away, 129 

Coy Ccelia dost thou see 137 

Death passing by, and hearing parsons play 224 

Death, who'ld not change prerogatives with thee, 97 

Defend the truth, for that who will not dye, 104 

Descent of birth is a vaine good 216 

Desire not thy mean fortunes for to set 107 

Each man three Divils hath, selfe borne afiBictions; 108 

Faire Lady when you see the Grace 151 

Fam'd Stymphall, I have heard, thy birds in flight 88 

First thinke, and if thy thoughts approve thy will 106 

First worship God, he that forgets to pray 104 

Fly Drunkennesse, whose vile incontinence 1 10 

Franke, when this Morne the harbinger of day 119 

From all the ills that I have done. Lord, quit me out of hand,. 225 

From witty men and mad 147 



38o INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

PAGE 

Goe bashful Muse, thy message is to one 197 

Goe happy Paper by Command, 219 

Goe solitary wood, and henceforth be 145 

Goe sordid earth, and hope not to bewitch 67 

Haile sacred Deserts, whom kind nature made 181 

Happy the man that all his dayes hath spent 94 

Happy the man which farre from city care; 95 

Heare much but little speake, a wise man feares 109 

Heavens decreed, before the world begun, 219 

Heav'n knowes my Love to thee, fed on desires 147 

He is a Paricide to his mother's name, 203 

Here lyes the knowing head, the honest heart, 102 

Ho! Histrio! I thought a presse had swallowed you all, . . . 226 

Ho jolly Thirsis whither in such hast? 152 

Honour the King, as sonnes their Parents doe 104 

Honour thy Parents to prolong thine end, 104 

How many of thy Captives (Love) complaine 78 

How much more blest are trees than men, 196 

I cannot fulminate or tonitruate words 205 

I chanc'd sweet Lesbia's voice to heare, 170 

If e're I take a wife I will have one 1 12 

If Fishes thus do bring us Books, then we 224 

If thou dispraise a man let no man know, 106 

If with a stranger thou discourse first learne 106 

I John Bo Peep, to you four sheep, 225 

rie not beleive't; if fate should be so crosse 145 

In this unconstant Age when all mens minds 123 

I was not borne to Helicon, nor dare 84 

I wonder not my Laeda farre can see, 139 

I wonder what should Madam Lesbia meane 86 

love saw the Heavens fram'd in a little glasse, 90 

loy to the Bridegroome and the Bride 172 

ludge not between two freinds, but rather see no 

Keepe thy freinds goods; for should thy wants be known, . . 106 

Lament, lament, ye Scholars all, 213 

Let Linus and Amphions lute, 138 

Let not thy Impotent lust so pow'rfull bee 1 12 

Love, give me leave to serve thee, and be wise 113 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 38 1 

PAGE 

Mvse be a bride-maid, dost not heare loo 

Mvsick thou Queene of soules, get up and string 138 

My Lalage when I behold 134 

Nature, Creations law, is judg'd by sense 185 

Now Scholars, look unto it, 209 

O fortunate Citie rejoyce in thy Fate 231 

Posterity hath many fates bemoan'd 147 

Pox take you all, from you my sorrows swell 191 

Pvrse, who'l not know you have a Poets been 183 

Reader if thou hast a teare, 99 

Reprove not in their wrath incensed men, 107 

Rich as was Cottons worth, I wish each line; 140 

Safe in thy brest close lock up thy Intents; 105 

Seeme not too conscious of thy worth, nor be 107 

Shee which would not I would choose: 144 

So liue with man as if Gods curious eye, 108 

Spare in thy youth, least Age should find thee poore iio 

Spare not, nor spend too much; be this thy care, 106 

Suspicious men thinke others false, but hee 105 

Swear not; An oath is like a dangerous dart 105 

Sweet, doe not thy beauty wrong . 224 

Sweet, heard you not fames latest breath rehearse 199 

Sweet Lydia take this maske, and shroud 182 

Take thou no care how to deferre thy death 108 

Take well what e're shall chance, though bad it bee; 105 

Thanke those that doe thee good, so shalt thou gaine .... 105 

The law's the path of life; then that obey, 105 

There are who know what once to day it was; 198 

These are things that being possest 139 

The spring was come, and all the fields growne fine; 73 

Thinke that is just; 'tis not enough to doe, 104 

Thou Cozen to great Madams and allyed 194 

Thy credit wary keepe, 'tis quickly gone; HO 

Thy first birth Mary was unto a tombe, 128 

Tis not to force more teares from your sad eye, 140 

To all alike be curteous, meeke, and kind, 109 

To doubtfull matters doe not headlong run; 105 



382 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

PAGE 

To gather wealth through fraud doe not presume, 106 

To tell thy miseries will no comfort breed, 106 

Trust not a man unknown he may deceive thee 109 

Vnder this beech why sit'st thou here so sad 156 

Vnto thy Brother buy not, sell, nor lend, no 

What Clod-pates, Thenot, are our Brittish swains? 174 

What rends the temples vail, where is day gone? 104 

When age hath made me what I am not now; 128 

When bashful Day-light now was gone, 200 

Who in the world with busy reason pryes, 91 

Why sigh you swain? this passion is not common; 136 

With diligence and trust most exemplary 225 

Wonder not friend that I do entertain 205 

Would you commence a Poet S"", and be 149 



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